The pitter-patter of tiny feet?

January 3, 2007 at 1:49 am (Uncategorized)

No, the big hefty earth-shaking of an angry giant. You might remember I blogged a little while ago about high-density living. Well, forget what I said. I don’t mean it anymore. I mean the opposite. I’m sick to death of the noise my neighbours upstairs make, and because I am overtired from an ill-timed bout of insomnia, I’m going to RANT about it right now because my lack of sleep is making me feel CRAZY.

We’ve started calling the girl “Thumper.” For some reason I’m certain it’s her rather than her boyfriend who walks above our heads with as much feline grace as Dumbo the elephant. We look up at our ceiling, look at each other with worried expressions, and one of us will say “The elephants are out,” or “Thumper is on the move,” or “Why do you think she never sits down?” This last question is really quite pressing. Thumper seems to spend hours, honestly hours walking up and back the length of their apartment. What’s with the pacing? What has this mad, flat-footed cow got to hide?

Today, right now, they’re still on holidays and watching The Ashes on TV. I don’t have a TV, but I don’t need one. I can hear everything that’s happening right here from my desk. They’re only young whipper snappers, but one of them must be desperately hard of hearing. I can actually identify different commentators without even straining out of my seat. Every time Australia takes a wicket, I hear the guy exclaim in agony – he’s English. Every time his side scores a run, I hear the ecstasy like he is sitting on my face. It’s all way, way too close for comfort.

They’re renting their apartment. The previous tenants must have walked on their tiptoes, they were so quiet, except they did always seem to be dragging something heavy across the floor. But that was it. No complaints out of us, and now they seem like a dream from better, more restful days. Thumper and her yelping boyfriend are so unbelievably loud I am seriously considering demanding their place be carpeted. At the moment they have floorboards, this is an old block and we’ve got them too, and they’re lovely. But someone mentioned to me the other day that if there’s no concrete layer separating floors, there’s actually some kind of strata law stipulating that upstairs apartments must be carpeted. Could this be true? And could I bring myself to be so churlish? Such a strata keener? Such a nasty neighbour? I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is that relentless midnight march of apparently compulsive plaster dropping pacing is driving me to the brink. And when I don’t sleep, I don’t reason. I maim and crush and destroy. Much better, happy, happy Di, when Thumper goes bye bye…This way, little bunny, into the pot, atta girl….


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