sleepwalking

Dear upstairs neighbors,

I know we live in a 24-hour society and sometimes you get the urge to turn your two bedroom apartment into a bowling alley at 1AM. Or perhaps your Aunt Marge sent you a pogo stick for your birthday and you just can't wait until daylight to try it out. Or maybe the current arrangement of your furniture reminds you too much of HIM, the one who broke your heart and you simply must move that chair HERE and that incredibly heavy dresser over THERE. These urges are hard to resist, I know.

I get it. We get strange urges sometimes. Saturday, my daughter walked in on me sitting on the kitchen counter, reading my book while eating Wheat Thins, spray cheese and red wine. I didn't feel like putting the book down and I wanted a snack, so I just followed my urges and plopped down (up?) right there on the counter. It happens. Impulsive living is fun sometimes.

I also think a certain amount of overhead noise is understandable when living in a multi-story apartment complex. I'm actually more relaxed about the noise than most. I drop things and fall quite a bit, and I know my downstairs neighbor has probably considered homicide more than once. Luckily for me, she checks her urges and this makes me not only still alive, but pretty understanding about ruckus from above.

However, when your activities actually wake me, a woman who sleeps like the dead, up from a sound sleep at 1 o'clock in the morning, it is entirely TOO MUCH.

So knock it off, before I come up there in my penguin pajamas and show you a whole new, much more interesting use for that pogo stick.

Sincerely,

Laura