Are you a fucking bear or something?

Hello all!  Obviously, surgery put me on a forced hiatus -- except for the posts that I wrote ahead of time and then scheduled for dates.  Sorry to reveal the wizard behind the curtain.

I'm crabby this morning.  Why?  Because of my upstairs neighbors.  I realize that I am part of the problem because I have no patience with other people.  Any apartment I've lived in has resulted in a feud with either my upstairs or downstairs counterpart.  I can't stand my current upstairs neighbors. I haven't been able to stand them since they moved in almost two years ago.

When they first moved in, it was a mother, her eight(ish) year old son, and her 'fiance'.  The fiance used to sit on the balcony smoking and talking very loudly on his cell phone.  I'm assuming he was a fiance because he would often yell at her about, "Why would I want to marry you if you don't know how to clean a house?"  His phone conversations were to his lawyer and some person that he must've gotten into a physical altercation with because he'd call the person and say shit like, "I could get into a lot of trouble for calling you because it would would considered threatening my victim, but you should know that if you testify against me, I'm going to get you."



I have to say there was one 'good thing' about him, he used to make the woman come downstairs and pick up the cigarette butts she throws over the side of their balcony -- after I wrote management because I spent half an hour one day picking up their nasty butts because I didn't want to get fined.  In theory, we get fined for throwing butts on the ground.  And, since the butts are all in front of my patio, I didn't want to be the one who was automatically guilty.

Either he got convicted or they broke up.  She's found a new man who lets the kid run wild and he is a fat little fucker, so his steps are loud.  I suppose it doesn't matter to the new man because he just turns up his music really loud -- which means that I bang on the ceiling with my broom handle.  Yes I do.  I don't have the energy to find a picture of a crabby old spinster banging on her ceiling, but trust me that it's exactly how you're seeing it.

I'm so crabby that I'm not even going to try to reconstruct sentences so they aren't ending with prepositions.

On the day I came home from the hospital, I went upstairs to confront the music face to face and to, hopefully, appeal to their humanity, "This is not just me being a tight assed old bitch.  I had fucking surgery, can you hold it down?"  My sister told me to cut them some slack.  Well.  She is more forgiving than me.

This morning, I just couldn't take it anymore.  I got up to pee and should have fallen right back asleep.  I couldn't.  Why?  Because the new guy has such a bad snoring problem I can hear it through the fucking ceiling!  It was months ago that I noticed this.  I understand that it can't be helped and he's not trying to be loud.

I just know this is proof that he's a fucking animal.  A bear or something that shouldn't live among humans.

Oh.  And there's a fresh batch of cigarette butts on the snow in front of my patio this morning.

I think it's time for another email to management.