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¶ … Old Experience of Living in an Apartment Building

I make it a life philosophy to stay positive and optimistic. That's not my nature, but I try. Whenever something starts to annoy me, I either try to ignore it, or I take action, in order to address the respective problem. This approach generally works for me and I have a relatively balanced life. However, there are a few things which really drive me crazy and which I can neither solve, nor ignore. One of them is the noisy neighbor.

I live in my own apartment. I bought it three years ago and I still have to pay over two decades on the mortgage. I made tremendous efforts to buy and I invested in it not only financially, but also emotionally. It's my home; my nest; my place of refuge and my battery charger. And when I come home from work, I love to sit in my comfy armchair, drink my cup of hot chocolate and read my good book. And just as I get to one of the most interesting parts of the book, and just as my hot chocolate reaches the perfect drinking temperature, BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!! Great, my neighbor got home. He likes his house music, with its loud bass.

And its so funny, because I cannot hear the music itself, but I can feel the bass vibrating through my walls. BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!! I try to ignore it, but it doesn't actually work. The bass is my Chinese water drop. I can always hear it and it literally drives me crazy. And it doesn't matter if I put my own music, because it doesn't cover it. I can always hear: BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!! BOOMMM!!!

When I feel that I cannot take it anymore, I go knock on his door. He's a nice guy, polite and everything. I ask him -- for the millionth time -- to please lower his bass volume. I explain that it's not the music that bothers me, but the bass and it would be great if he could just set his device to a lower bass volume. He smiles and turns downs the music. I go home somewhat at ease, but I know that tomorrow or in a couple of days we will have the same conversation all over again.

Ok, so I get back to book and to my now cold hot chocolate. And then I hear children screaming and running up the stairs. Great, my other neighbors are coming home. At least they're amusing. The noises that come from them are like this: TROP. TROP. TROP. BANG! WHEEE! Moooomy! Moooooomy! WHEEE! The children constantly run around the house, bumping into toys, furniture or God knows what else; the almost instantaneous reaction is that of bursting into tears, whether they are necessary or not. It's funny that this drama ends in a few minutes of silence only to have it repeated again. I think their parents should encourage them to consume their energy in a more constructive manner. But hey, who am I to say, right? Anyway, they're kids, so what can you do? At least they go to bed early and I still have some of the evening to relax.

By the time I finish that thought, my upstairs neighbors come home. They're ok, but they walk as it they're an army, not just two people. When my mother came to visit and heard them, she nicknamed them Godzilla. I'm not sure which is worst -- her walking around on the bare hardwood floor in her high heels or his barefoot heavy step that almost shakes the ceiling. Oh well, what can you do? It's not like you can go over there and ask them to step more lightly or more delicately! Maybe I will buy them a carpet for Christmas. Or slippers. So I bare with it for now. Anyway, they will not be walking around all night.

By now, my reading time and focus are lost, so I start the television. I do not watch much television. The evils they show depress me. But at night, I flip through the channels to catch a glimpse of the events of the day. Suddenly, this loud noise covers the news. BBRRRRR!!!!! BBRRRR!!!!!!! BBRRRR

I initially get confused and ask myself "What on earth?!" And then I remember: it's my other neighbor. He is renovating and did not take any vacation for this personal project. Nor did he hire a team of specialized constructors. He does it by himself. Which is of course laudable, with the exception that he only comes home after 10 o'clock. And the sound of the drilling machine at that hour is not one of the most pleasant sounds you've ever heard. I'm somewhat lucky with this neighbor, because his noises bother other people in the building as well. And the parents of small children quickly knock on his door. He sometimes answers, he sometimes doesn't. But he usually gets the message, and after drilling one or two more holes he stops. For the night that is. Tomorrow we go again. Sometimes I'm imagining his apartment like a piece of cheese, with lost of holes in it, and he's a big mouse, enjoying his cheese labyrinth.