Filed by Trevor at 3:02 am under Fightin' Words

The jury’s in: my upstairs neighbors are dicks. I wish there were a pithier, more erudite way of saying it (as my Music Theory professor from college was fond of saying), but I’m afraid this is what I’ve been pushed to.

It all started on Christmas morning. I had been up insanely late the night before, and after rousting myself out of bed far earlier than I wished, I had a ton of things I needed to do in the space of a short period of time. I walked across the park in the freezing morning air to get to my car, drove across town to take care of Stephen’s cats, then had to get back in time to prepare my family’s traditional Christmas breakfast. I got home around nine, cranked up my music to get myself in the proper spirit, then hopped in the shower. I had barely finished picking up the apartment, getting Devon’s stocking ready, making the quiche and croissants, and setting the table by the time Bil and Devon arrived at 10:30. But I was done!

“Um, you have a note on your door, Trevor,” Devon said peculiarly, peeling it off and handing it to me.

Obviously you can’t hear the knocking because your music is WAY TOO LOUD!! When my husband and I can hear your music through the walls and floors once again TOO LOUD!! If this continues in the future we will go straight to management. Try thinking of other people in your building, we have put up with it long enough. TURN YOUR MUSIC DOWN TODAY AND EVERYDAY!!

Before I say anything further, you should know I blast the nerdiest, most esoteric music ever. The offending music that particular morning? The Tallis Scholars’ 25th Anniversary collection; specifically Media Vita by John Sheppard. But anyway.

This would have upset me on any day, but seeing as how it was Christmas and I was pretty tired to begin with, I was really hurt. I ripped the note up and threw it in the trash, then wrote a note of my own and posted it on my door, to the effect of “Merry Christmas to you, too,” toying with the idea of casually pointing out the fact that I’ve endured their stomping around at 5:00 a.m. on a loop for the past four months, but I let it go for the moment. I also would have posted on their door, but sadly the poor dears couldn’t be bothered to write their names or apartment number — not a huge help seeing as how I know hardly anyone in my building. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did; of all the crappy things to do to someone on Christmas.

I blame it on my kick-ass new speakers. Oh, have I not mentioned them before? They kick ass. So suck it, upstairs neighbors: I’m just trying to culture you a bit.

Anyway, later on that day I resolved to invite them to dinner, seeing as how we’ve never actually met — I figured that would be the best way to end the hostility and maybe even gain a couple friends, albeit crotchety, uptight friends who leave unsigned passive-aggressive notes on people’s doors. In the meantime, I was finally able to put it behind me and enjoy the rest of my Christmas day. In particular, Cornish game hens with hazelnut butter and homemade yeast rolls. Happy Birthday, Jesus!

All of that changed yesterday when I noticed another note taped to my door, this time typed and signed.

Hey Neighbor-

This is Troy (next door) just wanted to let you know you are more than welcome to tell me if I’m being too loud or if you have a complaint. I got a loud noise complaint about my treadmill, and they did not leave their name or apartment number, but if it was you let me know. Not much I can do about the treadmill noise but I can do it at a time that is convenient for you!! I hope you had a great Holiday!

Well, two less people I have to cook dinner for.

Now, I’d met this guy in the vestibule a couple times and knew he was a decent chap, but apart from that I hadn’t heard a thing from his side of the landing; I dashed off a quick note to this effect, indicating that no, it wasn’t me, and if the note was in caps and threatened management, we were probably dealing with the same set of freaks. On a whim, I knocked on his door this afternoon on my way out to run some errands, and we wound up having a wonderful hour-long visit (note to self: must bitch to landlady about why he has a full-size oven and built-in microwave and I don’t!), basically commiserating with one another about our shared difficulties. I was also glad to hear that he ripped his note up, too — I don’t feel like such a goober anymore.

So, in a way, I’m glad this happened. I’d rather have a kick-ass next door neighbor and a pair of kooks upstairs than nothing at all. Somehow I think there will be a repeat occurrence of this whole scenario. Will I finally meet them face-to-face? Will management have to become involved? What piece of Late Renaissance polyphony will tick them off this time? Stay tuned!