Apartment living = depths of h-e-double hockey sticks

{Warning: incredibly ranty post. There. You’ve been warned.}

For the P family, apartment living these last six months has been likened to the depths of flaming hot hell. Well, that’s a tad dramatic. But, really, that sentiment is really not that far off the mark. If you recall, we had a few battles right after we moved in with the woman that lives above us. {If you’re wanting to catch up on my little saga, read the first story here, then the second story here then the third story here.} Here’s the recap: we’re living in an apartment temporarily while our house is being built. We chose an apartment that was in the girls’ school district so they didn’t have to switch schools mid year. We purposefully chose a “luxury” apartment so that it wouldn’t be ghetto. But our apartment IS ghetto and it pains us. Pains us terribly.

The people that live above us are the loudest people on earth. We hear their each and every move and it drives us insane. We hear their every move not because the ceiling is thin. We hear their every move because they are just dumb. They don’t close cabinets, they slam them. They don’t shut doors, they slam them. They don’t leave their apartment quietly, they slam their door and stomp down the steps. Some days, it’s just comical. They don’t walk, they stomp. We know when the boy upstairs goes to the bathroom, each and every time, because he SLAMS the toilet seat down. He doesn’t just let it fall, he slams it down. They don’t just wash their dishes, they run their garbage disposal for 13 minutes each time. They don’t take their shoes off when they come in the door, the woman wears heels in her kitchen because the kitchen has vinyl floors and it’s easier to annoy the P family when you can walk back and forth and back and forth across your floor fifty million times a night!!!! Gaaaaah!

It’s bad. I didn’t write about the time that we called the police on the woman. It was a Sunday night. She was blaring her crap rap from 6 p.m. until 9 p.m. and finally we had enough. We were sooooo insanely angry about it. She ruined our dinner {her radio is in her dining room, which is right above our dining room} and she made it hard for the girls to fall asleep. So we made a noise complaint to the cops. The cops came, knocked on her door, she answered and said, “Oh, I didn’t know the music was that loud.”  Really?! Really. She used to play her music OVER THE SOUND OF HER VACUUM, because, you know, that’s just the NORMAL thing to do when you live in a fricken apartment! And she had already received three noise complaints from us for her VOLUME OF MUSIC! 

Yes, I had made three noise complaints to the apartment manager. I had him over to the apartment once so he could listen to how loud the woman played her music in the morning. After the third complaint the music wasn’t as loud. But I could still hear it. I can still hear it, each and every morning from 6:50 a.m. to 8:25 a.m. I know nothing will be done about it. The apartment manager had told me that if three complaints were made then she could be evicted. I knew he wouldn’t evict her because he has no spine. He at one point told me that if we had a police complaint to back up the noise complaints then he could evict her. Well we have that, and she’s still up there, making noise CONSTANTLY.

At first I thought it was a teenage girl that played the music in the morning. I couldn’t figure out her age when I saw her in the parking lot. I used to hope it was a teenage girl because I didn’t think an adult could be so stupid. But nope, it’s a single mom with one boy. I know this: she’s REALLY dumb. Totally dumb. Her son?  Dumb as well and we suspect maybe has other issues. We’re not sure of his age. He’s not high school age. The newest annoyance is the woman keeps leaving the son up there alone. She obviously tells him not to leave the apartment because he never does. Instead, he plays human bowling ball up there. No really, that’s exactly what it sounds like. I can’t tell if it’s thunderstorming or if Seniore Fatt Ass is up there flopping around on the floor. She leaves him alone and goes clubbing on the weekends. How do I know this?  Because I can hear her getting ready, then we hear her STOMP STOMP STOMP down the stairs in her hooker boots, she starts her car, which also has intensly loud bassy music, zooms off, then we hear the boy up there going crazy because momma is gone. She comes back at about 2 a.m. We know that because her door slams so hard it wakes us up. I used to think someone was breaking into our apartment, it was so loud. But nope, just drunk hooker momma coming home from a night of clubbin’.

We’ve tried to replicate the noise we hear from the boy, trying to figure out what he is doing to make that type of noise. The only thing it could be? He literally falls on the floor. That’s the only thing that makes that much noise. Why would be be just falling on the floor 7,621 times a day?  We have no idea. We don’t think they have a TV because surely if they had a TV they’d blare the sucker so loud we could hear it. And we never hear TV noise. So maybe that’s his entertainment? Wrestling with pillows?  Wrestling fake bears? Dancing?

Last week was the first week of summer break and the boy was there alone during the day. When I got home from work Friday Mike told me it had been bad, he had been making noise all day, rumbling around. I was sitting on the couch talking to him, and the boy’s up there flopping around. The couch MOVES. Each floppy flop, wrestle move he makes rattles the couch. He’s thundering up there so loud that it’s making our FLOOR move. The pictures on the walls rattle. Our DVD cases on the walls? We’re afraid those are going to topple over because they keep moving. It’s just NOT RIGHT. It’s not right for us to have to deal with that type of noise in an apartment that we pay more than $900 a month for IS IT?!  NO IT’S NOT!

So I walked up to the apartment manager’s place. I was FUMING. Mike couldn’t go because he was to the point he would have punched someone. So I went, I told the apartment manager that I don’t know WHAT is going on but I CAN’T STAND IT and this is the FORTH COMPLAINT I HAVE MADE and blah blah blah I was angry. I told him I suspect the boy’s being left alone because momma’s car isn’t there and he acted concerned about that. He said he’d check into it. Whatever. I knew he wouldn’t because he hasn’t helped us one bit in the past when I had complained but I felt better getting it off my chest at least. What gets me so irate is that we PUT UP WITH A LOT. We’re not making near as many complaints as we should because we’re just dealing with it. I can’t go to bed before 10 p.m. each night because that’s the boy’s witching hour, that’s when HE goes to bed and for an hour takes a bath and makes a racket then makes horribly awful noise in his room for an hour before going to sleep. We are paying extra in our energy bill each month to run our fan at night so that we can sleep. We can STILL hear him over the fan! We pay a LOT OF MONEY to be in that ghetto apartment. BUT, we’re trying to just be calm about it because nothing can be done. Nothing will be done. It’s just the price we pay for living where we live. We’re TOO NICE and we just put up with it.

I want to make a complaint to children’s services about the boy being left alone but I won’t do it because I’m too nice. He obviously needs supervision because when momma’s not home, he’s really loud but when she’s there he’s kind of quiet. There are still moments when he’s making a bunch of noise, especially around bed time, but it’s not as loud as when she is home. In my county if a child is under 18 and left alone you can make a complaint. He’s definitely under 18. But do I complain?  I’m just tooooo fricken nice because that seems pretty severe to do – although they make our lives a living hell, I’m worried that making a complaint like that is too mean! 

Yesterday? The boy was left alone again. For six hours we heard him stomping and flopping around. Guess the apartment manager didn’t do anything about it!  Surprised?!  NO!  And here’s the real kicker!  I was reading late last night because I had trouble falling asleep … I was finally drifting off to sleep, it was about 12:45 a.m. ….I put my Kindle down, ready to fall completely asleep, and I hear … the vacuum. The woman upstairs vacuumed her entire apartment from 12:45 a.m. until 1:13 a.m.  It was AWESOME.

To say we’re excited to move out is an understatement. We can’t wait for our house to be finished. We’ve still got at least two and a half more months in the apartment though. We’re wondering what we did to karma. We had such a hard time selling our house. We sold it and we move into an apartment. The apartment is horrible. I’m hoping beyond hope that this is only just making us stronger? That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?  I hope once we move out of the area, once we move into our house, which is in a whole different part of town, a whole different demographic area, that it will get better? It has to, right?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s