© 2013 ellathompson


Dearest residents of the apartment block to my right, your music is shaking the house. Please turn it down. I need to be asleep right now. Even though this may be forcing me to stay up and do work, it also means that I won’t be able to get up early tomorrow. To run. And then get to work at 9am. So, please. Turn it down. Just a tad.


I have a confession. You can hear everything happening next door from the bathroom in my house.

I’ve stood there for hours before, contentedly listening to some group of muso friends play guitar and sing Bob Marley songs one evening. At first, I thought it was just a recorded track. That’s how impressive it was. They would spontaneously harmonise, creatively experiment with the guitar, and shout and laugh all celebratory-like during it. Sort of like a campfire sing along – except way more profesh-sounding. It was just the best thing to listen to. I even attempted to record some of it on my phone. Alas, I was unsuccessful. But it was one of the most peaceful moments. Standing in the bathroom, tapping my foot, smiling to myself, listening to some of the best live music I’ve ever heard pour in from the window above the toilet. What a moment.

Ha, and then there’s that other time… I’ll admit it. I have eavesdropped on conversations before. My favourite one was a man on the phone – he had just found out that his girlfriend was a ‘call girl’. I won’t go into details of this, because I might get into trouble. But it was absolutely hilarious. He was out there on the phone for over an hour. I listened from the bathroom, giggling to myself. He was quite disgusted by his situation. It was so very funny. (I’d like to clarify that I wasn’t laughing specifically at his misfortune, but at the crazy situation. I mean, how many times would this sort of thing happen? That’s what made it funny. And his hilariously typical reaction.) What a morning it was for him.


Anyway, my usually entertaining neighbours are currently being rather bothersome. So, now, I just sit here. At 1am. Which isn’t that late. Unless you have to be up at 6.30am. Like me. Hence my frustration. Thanks a lot, neighbours.



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