I’m considering learning voodoo. Or perhaps finding a special novena to pray. Maybe I should just burn some sage and glue salt to my ceiling to keep the bad juju from falling in on our heads.
Whatever I do, I’m going to have to do it quick. You see, as someone not quite cut-out for confrontation, I’m running out of options. Our upstairs neighbors are, nicely put, asshats. One or both of them drinks (really) heavily. They fight roughly 5 times a week. Loudly. Throwing furniture. Till 2 am sometimes and then they’re at it again at 7 the next morning. Rumor has it he beats her, and by the looks of her face, I believe the rumors. Oh, and they’re in their mid to late seventies. I keep thinking that I’d be too old for this shit, so they are double-y to old to be living out a Rhianna-Chris Brown love affair.
We’ve called the landlord. We’ve called the cops several times. The cops came once, but when they rang our bell, Penny started barking and the people upstairs shut up for the 5 minutes the police were here. They basically said unless someone calls out for help, they really couldn’t do anything. I’ve taken to playing music rather loudly during the day. Which, when I go out in the hall or down to the cellar, I can’t hear it, so then I have to wonder, How f—ing loud are these people? I mean, we can hear entire arguments. He was calling out for help the other day and Armin heard her say something to the effect of wanting an apology for something. We eventually called the cops, who then called an ambulance. Supposedly the old man fell… Fell? Drunkenly stumbled? Was pushed by his wife? Who the heck knows?
The funny part is, when we moved into the building I worried that we would be the loud ones.