I slept in yesterday, as is my wont, only to have my sleep disturbed by many raucous shouts from the apartment next door followed by a shaking of the bed of magnitude 3.0 proportions. Yes, I have a new neighbor. Her name is Lori. She seems like a perfectly nice girl, 20-something, music lover (she's always coming home from Amoeba), friendly. She moved in about two weeks ago. Things have been pretty quiet. Occasionally, I'll overhear a snippet of telephone conversation if she's near the front window at the same time as me, but otherwise, quiet.
Then, yesterday happened. I'm assuming her gentlemen caller was watching sports because the shouts were things like "OH, NO!" "You Idiot" and "Go, go, gooooo!" I didn't mind that so much. It was afternoon and I should have been out of bed anyway. But the slamming against the wall was a little annoying. The walls, not in the best shape to begin with and paper thin, are riddled with cracked plaster, which flew into my hair with one particularly hard slam. Having never been in that apartment, I have always assumed (from previous tenants' behaviors) that the front room is a living room. What or who was slamming against the wall, I have no idea.
Things got quiet and I supposed they went out to enjoy the day. I moved to my own living room to knit for my Ravenclaw swap partner and watch a DVD set of the first season of "Alias Smith and Jones." (Those of you born in the 60's might remember that show) As I was knitting and trying to figure out what I did wrong, I heard a creepy male voice calling "Where are you, Lori?" "I know you're in there, Lori." Given that my name is Laurie, you can imagine how it freaked me out. I walked to the kitchen and looked out to see a man run across the backyard with something in his hand that could at first glance be construed as a knife. Yikes! I was still in my jammies, but I trotted downstairs to look out the front door and see what I could see.
I heard a woman squeal, but not in fear, and laughter ensued. Okay, so the new neighbor and her gentleman caller are playing a game. Whatever tickles your fancy. But then the slamming of the doors started. Doors in her apartment. Doors in the empty back apartment (did they break in?). The back gate. Car doors. My God, enough with the doors already. Then the banging into the walls again. The whole house shook with every hit, leaving me to ponder how it has stood for so many years in earthquake country. Nacho's tank was sloshing like a wave pool.
And on and on this pattern continued all day and all of the night. A quiet lull followed by a series of slamming doors, running feet, walls shaking and laughter. And I thought Survive W. Freedom was an interesting neighbor.