Web Search nikon coolpix digital cameras The Miserable Annals of the Earth: Upstairs, downstairs

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Upstairs, downstairs

Okay.

So, last night. Once again, the loud music, the sounds of voices, the gunshots and explosions coming down through the living room ceiling around 9:25, five minutes before the 13 year old daughter's bedtime. When I say 'loud', I mean, we could hear these sounds in the back bedroom. The loud noises have been a recurring motif lately and we've tried to ignore them, but she was complaining she couldn't sleep, so I did what I've learned is the only thing that works with the Asshole Upstairs - I called the cops on him. 

Now, when I say I've learned this, I mean, I've been up those stairs at least a dozen times in the last year and a half to ask him, with varying levels of courtesy, if he could please quiet down. It has never accomplished anything; all he does is roll his eyes at me, call me a control freak, and advise that he's in his apartment and he'll do whatever he wants. At various times in the past, in response to requests to be quieter, he's told us:

* we should buy a house out in the country
* we're not the landlord and therefore have no control over what goes on in his apartment
* my whole family should wear ear plugs
* we live in an apartment building and noise is going to happen
* it's just his lifestyle, bro

My wife has also gone upstairs numerous times and, I do not doubt in a much more civil fashion (because she's way classier than I am) asked him to quiet down, too. 

None of these requests have ever accomplished anything except to provide him with an opportunity to insult us. On a few occasions, he's actually gotten louder, just to show that We're Not The Boss Of Him, which it is extremely important that he demonstrate to us. On one memorable occasion, he and his 'besty', the slore who lives in the other upstairs apartment, actually waited for me to get back downstairs before beginning to jump up and down and scream like apes. After which, they went in his bedroom and jumped up and down on the bed and made loud simulated sex noises... which, since the youngest daughter was currently trying to sleep directly beneath, did not amuse us at all.

So what I've learned is, when he's being excessively noisy, I call the cops. When I call the cops, he shuts up... at least, for a while. 

So the cops finally showed up last night (cop, actually; sometimes one shows up, sometimes two) and went upstairs and asked him to quiet down. And he did turn the volume down a little... but five minutes after I got back to bed, he proceeded to STOMP up and down the hall running the length of his apartment... I mean, he was just BOOMIN up there, to make sure we knew he was displeased with us.

So today I resisted the urge, with some help from my wife, to go outside and gather up some of the shit his dog has left all over our backyard for the past year and a half, and deposit it all over the area in front of his front door. Because I didn't want to be that creep. 

And half an hour ago, there's a rap rap rap at the back door, and I open it, and the little turd is standing on my back porch. And he starts in: "You know, if you have a problem with the noise coming from my living room, just come up and tell me. Because I was within my rights with the agreement I made with your wife and the landlord -- "

"No," I said, pointing at him, "stop." He did, and I said "First, you have broken that agreement whenever you felt like it. The agreement no longer exists, you have had parties and been noisy far later than you were supposed to; if I don't call the cops to shut you down you'll keep going all night. Second -- I have tried to be a good neighbor to you. I came up those stairs a dozen times before I ever called the cops and every time what happened? You insulted me and never ever quieted down... occasionally, you just jumped up and down and screamed. And the last time I came up, you ordered me off your porch. So get off my porch."

"You're SO gross," he told me. "Fine. But you can't harass me."

"I'm not harassing you," I told him as he retreated off the porch. "You're a child and calling the cops is the only thing that works when you create a problem so hear me on this: I will call the cops EVERY TIME. Because you've taught me and you've taught my wife that it's the only way to get you to behave like a grown up, however briefly."

"Why are you such a miserable man?" he asked. "You can't harass me like this."

"Another thing," I said, "that agreement you're talking about? One of the conditions of it was your promise that you'd be gone by the end of summer if we just 'hung in there' with you. And you're still here. You're a liar and a child and as it is the only thing that works with you, I will call the cops EVERY TIME."

My voice was shaking pretty badly. Even at the age of 51, I cannot keep my voice steady when I'm emotional.

I still have a hard time believing he had the temerity to come up and mention that 'agreement' to me. In addition to establishing 'quiet times' in the house (which he's ignored whenever he felt like it), he also agreed to keep his dog on a leash outside his apartment and to clean up after her... which he has NEVER done. Plus, there's the whole thing where he was supposed to be gone by the end of summer, and here it is, the middle of the following February and the little shit is still fucking around with us. 

'Harass' him. He has no idea what 'harassment' is. 

Know what I caught him doing back in December? I was downstairs doing laundry when the side window into the basement opens and in he slides with a full laundry bag. When I asked him what he was doing, he said "Oh, my key doesn't work in the lock of the basement door, so I just come in and out by the window."

Now, another one of our big beefs with him and the slore upstairs is that they find it very inconvenient to keep the basement door locked. In fact, their preference would be to leave it unlocked all the time. However, the basement gives direct access to our apartment (which, of course, they don't give a shit about). And there have been a lot of break ins in our neighborhood, and the cops have advised people that the usual point of entry is the basement. So we've bitched and bitched and bitched to our landlord about it, and they've whined and whined and whined that their keys don't work in the basement lock, which is bullshit... they just dislike having to put their laundry down to unlock and then relock the door when they go in and go back out. 

However, the landlord came down solidly on our side on that one, going so far as to say that if he had to put another lock on that door, he wouldn't be giving out ANY keys... meaning we'd be the only people in the house with basement access. That shut them up... so, rather than use his key, the dickhead was just coming in through the window. 

Of course, he wasn't going back OUT through the window, that was another lie. He as just coming in that way, and then unlocking the door from the inside and going back out through it... leaving it unlocked whenever he did so.

So I nailed that window shut. It took me three times, as he kept forcing it open, but I finally got it secured. And guess what? His key works just fine now.

I don't know what he's going to do about me 'harassing' him by calling the police whenever he's in violation of the noise ordinance. But if he's got the sheer vacuous cluelessness to call the landlord and complain, well, the landlord has ignored OUR complaints for pretty much eighteen months or so. And if he wants to get in it, my wife and I are happy to have another chat about what an inconsiderate tenant he has living over us.

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