I still have no idea how many people are living in the apartment next to me. Whenever a new batch arrives, it's always a fun guessing game as to the number of folks who will wind up being "permanent" residents. I thought for a while it was a young couple, a woman and a man, but now I'm beginning to suspect that it might be two women who have male visitors occasionally. But there's no way to tell. Well, other than getting to know them personally, and I have no particular interest in doing that. Given the trend for that short bus of an apartment, they won't be here for very long anyway.
I have to say that, so far, they have been "better" than some of the previous residents, "better" being a somewhat relative term. Perhaps that's because they seem hardly ever to be home. And, shockingly, I'm okay with that. Now and then, though, they do have some odd habits which seem designed to annoy all of the other people on this floor, or maybe they have a grander scheme in mind: annoying everyone in the building. They have the capacity to do so. I just hope they never use it.
I've only had to call the security patrol once since the new neighbors moved in. It was one of the weekends when they were moving stuff into the apartment and unpacking. They had two--yes, two--stereos blasting music. Most of the other residents of the hallway stuck their heads around the corner to confirm the apartment number, a sure sign that I wasn't the only one who called. The response to the patrol officer's telling them that their music was too loud? "Seriously?" That's the best they could muster, and it was in that Paris Hilton/Valley Girl tone of voice that too many young women mimic nowadays, so you know what it sounded like. But they turned the music down, and peace was temporarily restored. Since I've only had to call the patrol once in the month or so since they moved in, I'm already happier with them as neighbors than the previous two sets. Of course, the holidays are looming, and you can never tell what parties might be on the horizon.
No, when it comes to noise, they only have a couple of annoying habits. One of them likes to play music while taking a shower. I guess she/he wants to be able to enjoy a few tunes while soaping up. I don't know; it makes no sense to me. I just want to get in the shower, get it over with, and get on with my day. They, however, must think of it as some sort of retreat. The music only lasts as long as the shower is running, so at least, I know it's only temporary. Of course, the showers go on for at least half an hour, so there may be no water left in the city of Los Angeles if this keeps up.
One of them is also rather heavy-footed. It's a woman because sometimes she likes to wear heels when stomping around the apartment. Well, I suppose it could be a man in heels, but I've heard the voice and I'm sticking with it being a woman. The worst is when the doorbell rings and she has to stomp from her bedroom to the front door. It sounds like Godzilla destroying Tokyo. And it happens a couple of times a week now. I can't imagine what the people living downstairs must think. It must sound like they are under attack. Did I mention that we have hardwood floors in most of the apartments in this building? Yes, that only adds another dimension to the horror.
There is a dog next door. His name is Oliver, and I know this because one of them--obviously, Oliver's owner--yells out his name every night when she comes home. So far, Oliver hasn't been prone to barking, but dogs are illegal in the tower apartments like mine, so I'm holding on to that little tidbit of information in case I need it later on. He's a small dog, and she apparently hides him in a big purse to take him for his nightly walk. Or so one of the other neighbors told me. She, too, has chosen not to turn in the errant dog owner. Yet.
I first nicknamed the new tenants the Giggle Sisters because, when they were moving stuff into the apartment, they always seemed to be giggling about something and doing so quite loudly. One of them, in particular, seems especially mirthful. I was dreading the inevitable late night jags of talking and laughing that seem endemic to the younger generation, but apparently, they are not fond of hanging out in the living room. After two sets of tenants with no living room furniture who loved to hear the sounds of their own voices echo, I fully support them staying in their own bedrooms. There are still giggles at times when they are walking from the elevator to the apartment and vice versa, and everyone on the floor can hear them, especially when the one in the movie business (yeah, exactly how I felt) is also talking on her cell phone. And she's always talking on her cell phone as she walks to and from the elevator. What is it about that generation's obsession with talking so loudly that everyone can hear? Does no one value a sense of privacy any longer?
I had a blissful couple of months when the property owners were going through the eviction process for the last tenants, the Bros. It was so peaceful and quiet. I could get my grading done with ease, and I could watch television without interruptions. I could even sleep without having to hear some racket from next door. And there was no constant slamming of the front door like I had with Mr. Echo and the Woo Girls, who never seemed to be able to stay in or out for more than half an hour at a time. That brief amount of solitude without neighbors was among the best few months I've had in the building in almost fourteen years of living here.
I am grateful that these new neighbors are relatively quiet. I understand that you do have to put up with some distractions when you live in a building with 156 apartments. And that's just my building. There are several thousand units in this complex and the neighboring ones, so the possibilities for noise are infinite. You might enjoy, for example, the rock band upstairs who like to play very synth-heavy, gloomy music all afternoon. Over and over and over and over. It's very depressing stuff. Or maybe the trumpet player who likes to practice with all of his windows open is more to your liking? I know he needs the practice. God knows he needs the practice. And don't get me started on the neighbors who like to sing. Well, "sing" is a generous description of what they're doing. I first thought someone was either drowning or gargling. Maybe it's just modern music, and I'm not up on the latest styles.
Yes, I have thought about moving. I've thought about it more than once, actually. However, my rent is under the city's stabilization plan, and comparatively speaking, I don't pay all that much for my two bedroom apartment. A friend and I checked out a one bedroom apartment last weekend that goes for almost as much as I pay, and that one doesn't even have a parking space for the tenant. I doubt I'd be able to find any place that is both cheap and quiet, so for now, I just keep hoping that the giggling is kept to a minimum and that Godzilla will someday have to give those tired feet a long, long rest.
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