I really only have one complaint about this apartment, it is so perfect for me. I mean, yes, it's shabby outside, and yes, the deck is sort of rundown. And the landlords themselves are nobody's joy. But as for the apartment itself? Nothing but great things to say about it, except for one. And that has just recently begun. Only for the past month or thereabouts. It's my downstairs neighbor.
See, when I moved in here, in October of whatever year that was, 2009, I think, (wow, I missed my two-year anniversary!) a little old lady lived below me, named Helen. She was a little, bent woman, very polite and civil, and pleasantly friendly, but not outgoing, and she drove an enormous Cadillac. But sometime about two or three months ago, she quietly disappeared. I was out of the house when it happened, so I don't know if she moved to a nursing home, or dropped dead, or what. I wasn't even aware she had left until the painters started having their radios on loudly while they painted. One day I was home from work early, or something, and heard them, and then I knew she was gone.
And then the new tenant moved in. I have only seen him through a glass darkly, so I have no idea how old or young or dark or fair he is. I'm assuming he is youngish, cuz his parties last all night long (but that could be forty-ish, too). Anyway, he sleeps in the larger bedroom, as do I, so he is directly below me. And, not unlike my ex-husband and son, he has the TV on all night. Or at least, he goes to sleep with the movie playing. I am not in the room with him, of course, so I don't know whether he is awake or asleep -- his snoring has never drowned out the dialogue. And it isn't on when I wake up in the morning. BUT! the other night when I couldn't sleep for several hours, it was still playing below at one-thirty. So the muffled swoops and bangs and screams and surges of background music keep me company until I fall asleep. So far it isn't dreadful, it doesn't keep me from sleeping, but it does annoy me while I am awake.
So! First official complaint: late-night movies in the bedroom. And it's not that I don't like movies, as we all know, I love them. I am leaving to go and see The Rum Diaries in a few minutes. It's just that it makes me feel sort of getting-even when I hear the floor creak as I walk around. It's a very creaky floor, you know, and I used to walk so softly, thinking of Helen below me. But now I tromp around like a big dog, because he leaves his movie on so late and so loud.