This is what my face looks like most nights in my new dwelling.Like Nicki, I have a few alter egos myself. The one who is most like Nicki's Roman would have to be B. B doesn't happen to be a gay boy, but rather a hood chick. The chick that I would have been had I been raised by the streets like the majority of the other girls in my neighborhood. B is North Richmond all the way, that same Richmond that The Game's Tasha Mack is from. And B has no problem telling you what's on her mind, especially if she feels like she's been crossed. You've met her. She just doesn't give a fuck, and will tell you AND your mama to suck it.
This week, my upstairs neighbor had the opportunity to get acquainted with B. For the life of me, I can not understand why this man feels the need to walk his apartment allllllniiiiightlooooong. The shit drives me insane. It wouldn't be a big deal if there was more insulation, but there isn't in this building. When he decides that he wants to drop shit every five minutes, or hammer his nails back into the floor, or drag his feet across the floor - after midnight - for fuck's sake, it sounds as if my ceiling is going to come crashing down on top of me. Because yes, his favorite spot in his apartment happens to be right over my bedroom. While Emma is sound asleep I am tossing, turning and thinking evil thoughts.
There were a couple of nights in particular when enough got to be enough. He was doing something that sounded like sawing. It was a constant loud ass sound in a back and forth motion, right over my head. I jumped up, threw on some shoes and headed up the stairs. His explanation, "oh, I was inaudible my feet". At this point I was struggling with B to hold her back from cussing his ass all the way out. I instructed him to cut it out, and informed him that he was making a ruckus right over my bedroom. He acted surprised, as if it was totally out of his thought process that such a thing as keeping up a whole hell of a lot of noise could possibly disturb his downstairs neighbor. I had faith that this enlightenment would prompt him to sit his ass down after a certain hour. Not so much. A couple of nights later, we'd all meet again.
There is something particularly annoying about being in a comfortable position and having to raise up because of some bullshit. I don't know what he was doing, but this time it sounded like bowling. He was dropping shit one after another, so I decided to try to get his attention, again in hopes of prompting him to sit his ass down. I got my broom and went to work on the ceiling with it. I either scared him, or he was fucking with me because he make an intense BOOM, to which I answered with a sequence of booms. If he wanted to play the game, then we could play. He decided against playing the game and I didn't hear him drop or throw anything else.
My apartment seems to be situated in the twilight zone. I have this dude upstairs, and I have the laundry room right next to my bedroom. I'm actually sharing a wall with the laundry room. Laundry time is one of my favorite activities. Not necessarily the gathering and sorting, but the process of laundering and folding, I'm all for it. It brings relaxation for me. My proximity to our laundry space and the old pipes in this building are ruining that for me. When the washers are in use, the old pipes shake and rattle my walls. This is not ideal when you are trying to get to sleep after a long day or when you would prefer to stay asleep. Sounds like a god dammed train or an earthquake. Since we've been living in this space, I've been jolted awake by those pipes rattling my walls as late/early as 1:30am. I have made my share of trips outdoors to remind folks of the big ass sign posted on the laundry room door. The one about not doing any laundry after 10pm or before 8am. Either, these people can't read OR they're just retarded. I do believe they can read.
These factors are making it really hard for me to feel good about settling in. I do NOT want to move again. I am free to move after December, but moving is not fun, re-uprooting is not something that I want to do. However, it will probably be something that I will be forced to do. Or I might possibly have to cut someone.
This week, my upstairs neighbor had the opportunity to get acquainted with B. For the life of me, I can not understand why this man feels the need to walk his apartment allllllniiiiightlooooong. The shit drives me insane. It wouldn't be a big deal if there was more insulation, but there isn't in this building. When he decides that he wants to drop shit every five minutes, or hammer his nails back into the floor, or drag his feet across the floor - after midnight - for fuck's sake, it sounds as if my ceiling is going to come crashing down on top of me. Because yes, his favorite spot in his apartment happens to be right over my bedroom. While Emma is sound asleep I am tossing, turning and thinking evil thoughts.
There were a couple of nights in particular when enough got to be enough. He was doing something that sounded like sawing. It was a constant loud ass sound in a back and forth motion, right over my head. I jumped up, threw on some shoes and headed up the stairs. His explanation, "oh, I was inaudible my feet". At this point I was struggling with B to hold her back from cussing his ass all the way out. I instructed him to cut it out, and informed him that he was making a ruckus right over my bedroom. He acted surprised, as if it was totally out of his thought process that such a thing as keeping up a whole hell of a lot of noise could possibly disturb his downstairs neighbor. I had faith that this enlightenment would prompt him to sit his ass down after a certain hour. Not so much. A couple of nights later, we'd all meet again.
There is something particularly annoying about being in a comfortable position and having to raise up because of some bullshit. I don't know what he was doing, but this time it sounded like bowling. He was dropping shit one after another, so I decided to try to get his attention, again in hopes of prompting him to sit his ass down. I got my broom and went to work on the ceiling with it. I either scared him, or he was fucking with me because he make an intense BOOM, to which I answered with a sequence of booms. If he wanted to play the game, then we could play. He decided against playing the game and I didn't hear him drop or throw anything else.
My apartment seems to be situated in the twilight zone. I have this dude upstairs, and I have the laundry room right next to my bedroom. I'm actually sharing a wall with the laundry room. Laundry time is one of my favorite activities. Not necessarily the gathering and sorting, but the process of laundering and folding, I'm all for it. It brings relaxation for me. My proximity to our laundry space and the old pipes in this building are ruining that for me. When the washers are in use, the old pipes shake and rattle my walls. This is not ideal when you are trying to get to sleep after a long day or when you would prefer to stay asleep. Sounds like a god dammed train or an earthquake. Since we've been living in this space, I've been jolted awake by those pipes rattling my walls as late/early as 1:30am. I have made my share of trips outdoors to remind folks of the big ass sign posted on the laundry room door. The one about not doing any laundry after 10pm or before 8am. Either, these people can't read OR they're just retarded. I do believe they can read.
These factors are making it really hard for me to feel good about settling in. I do NOT want to move again. I am free to move after December, but moving is not fun, re-uprooting is not something that I want to do. However, it will probably be something that I will be forced to do. Or I might possibly have to cut someone.
Wow! Girl, you might want to investigate that a bit further before you go banging on that fool's door like Detective B and shit. His ass up there making noises that sound like bowling and sawing and all that. He might have a hostage up in there and shit. At the very least, you might want to tell somebody you're taking a trip to Norm's door just in case Emma wake up and Mama ain't there. I know you got hood all up and under that demeanor, Ms. Tasha Mack, BUT he sounds like he got some crazy goin on. You know you can call the law on his ass or warn him that you will call them if he continues past the 10:00PM noise ordinance. You are well within your right to do so. Make the landlord send him a letter.
ReplyDeleteIf that don't work, I'll come over with my broom and my mop and we can go to work on two different areas of his living space from down below!
Girl, the country ass negro up above ain't gon' bust a grape. Trust me. He's way more scared of me than I am of him. I just don't plan on having to tell his ass to act like he got some sense many more times. Management around here is a joke. A straight joke, which is why I haven't fully unpacked. Aside from dude, I've requested that they lock that damn laundry room door, as the sign says would be done at 10pm, and it has yet to be locked, which is why I walk right in and open up dryer doors and shit. Fuck that. If you can't read, your stupid ass don't deserve to have dry clothes, lol. The whole apartment complex can suck it!
ReplyDeleteTraci Lavette, why would you get B started!!!??? LOL!!!
haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! you got me crackin' up over here with the story of the dude upstairs. and i'm really lol'ing at the idea of you @ traci working on two different parts of the ceiling with mops and brooms! HILARIOUSNESS!!
ReplyDeletebut i know how this can be. i don't know WHAT it is about people who live in upstairs apartments. seems like they're always moving furniture around, fighting, turning cartwheels, or something! it's universal, lol!