Last night I sent my neighbours a note asked them to tone it down with exercising—running, jumping, doing weights, and so on— on wooden floors. It took me a year and a half of it driving me crazy to mention it to them because I didn’t want to be the crazy lady next door. So I sucked it up. 7 am, 10 am, 3 pm, 4 pm, 5pm. And this week, I lost my ^%&t.
My note was polite. I have no problem with their newborn—sometimes it feels like I have a newborn alongside—and their six-year-old. Or their extended family and large friend network. But for the love of God, with the running and the kettlebells and motivation soundtrack against our adjoining wall and repeated thuds and thuds and thuds and boom and boom and boom and who knows what all else that makes the floors jump and the walls vibrate and me want to crawl out of my skin. And why do all this when you have perfectly good concrete floors too that will muffle the sound and not make your neighbours want to kill themselves? So I hated having to send the note, but nope, couldn’t take it any. more. I so much hope that they will understand instead of thinking that I am a lunatic.
ok ok, I may be a lunatic, but in a good way.
I have often thought about this tea. When it is good, it is really really good. I misplaced it. It wasn’t in the place where I usually store it because I had included it in a swap with a tea friend and it got buried among other teas I had put aside to create swap samples. So, now, yay! Such bitter coffee and burnt caramel deliciousness. It is super lovely with milk, but I am drinking it straight up. And deliriously happy. Until I begin thinking about my neighbours.