I took growing up in the country for granted. There, I had the noise of semi-trucks, family members and various farm animals to deal with. Moving into an apartment has been a different experience, with the intrusive racket of strangers. Living in month-to-month rental apartments, there is always a parade of new faces who are all equally inconsiderate of others.

(next door)

Next door I have a couple that seems to like to spend money on things no one needs. Like Halloween decorations where there are no trick-or-treaters. The door, which I must walk past every day in disgust, is adorned with faux cobwebs and plastic spiders in a tacky fashion. I can hear their arguments, which are numerous and often continued outside to our front doors. They run the garbage disposal too much, take showers at weird times and seem to partake in body-slamming competitions against the walls. There is also always a smell of incense lurking about, which makes me suspicious of what they are doing that needs to be masked by patchouli.

(downstairs)

As far as I know there is only one gentleman who lives below me and he goes to State — at least the parking permit in his car says so. He likes not only to listen to his music loud, but to sing loudly as well. The other night I endured a rendition of Usher’s “Love in This Club” and he hit more off keys than on. Sometimes it starts at nine in the morning, coincidently on the days I have off. His alarm, which sounds like a large truck backing up, goes off at 6:30 a.m. I’ve also listened in on an hour-long conversation he had about trying to pick a girl up at a club, which I heard through the walls in my bedroom. I suppose it’s better than the last couple who lived there. I could always hear them having sex.

(diagonal from me)

Well, I’m not quite sure who lives here. I’ve never seen them and only know of their existence from one thing: the television. From six in the afternoon until eight in the morning, that television can be heard from down the stairs. I can be standing in my kitchen with no electronics on and hear the faint static that is some kind of news channel. They must be really informed people. Every paper that gets tapped to their door by the apartment manager, I am always tempted to peek out just to get a clue as to who these neighbors are.