“It is folly to punish your neighbor by fire when you live next door.”
- Publilius Syrus
Those of you who remember this little fiend, will be happy to know that he has departed for grimmer and more diabolic realms. Alternatively, you will be saddened to know that he has been replaced with something far, far worse:
Our new upstairs neighbors.
Artist's rendering of the neighbor's parties.
Not only do they fight, constantly, at the top of their lungs, specifically at ridiculous hours of the the night, but they are also completely incapable of walking. No, no. They stomp. Which makes our ceiling shake. And they throw parties with loud friends in which they, as far as we can tell, practice riverdancing. Or dropping bowling balls.
The other night, when we were watching a movie, we heard the door above us slam and moments later the light fixture started rattling around.
“Ah good,” J. said, “Lord and Lady Stompington are home.”
Obviously all this PBS watching is starting to rub off on him!
This is the precise reason I was forced to return my glorious treadmill to the store and opt for a gym membership. Apparently WE were the stompingtons. :p
Which is why I bought a bike! I will not do to the downstairs neighbors what has been done to us!
[...] got the good news early and bounced around enthusiastically in my parking lot (so as not to become the Stompingtons to my downstairs neighbors). Then I emailed my mother and told her to ship over as many bridal [...]
People seldom understand how they sound when they walk. I can forgive that. It’s the fighting and other loud activities that are beyond reasonable when living in apartments. There is a la-la-la mentality that their lives stay within the four walls of there apartments.
I won’t tell you the tales of being the single person living amongst the loud and enthusiastic newly married in a 4-plex south of campus. They came and went while I stayed.
Apartment living is not for the feint of heart. Sigh.
[...] (that isn’t J., I mean). Or a newer flat that doesn’t have creaky floors (or my Lord and Lady Stompington above us). A second car, one that can manage the highways without 4000 rpms or a using half a [...]
[...] happier news, it would seem my Lord and Lady Stompington may have moved out! Building gossip suggests it, and the unnatural quiet we’ve been [...]
[...] My Lord and Lady Stompington are long gone, but the creaky floors above us remain. Our newer neighbors, whom we have never actually met have their own quirks (including loud, ahem, conjugal activity. And even more inexplicably, always vacuuming directly after said activity. We still haven’t figured that one out) but by and large we prefer them to the clay-footed, bowling ball dropping, riverdancing jerks who went before. But yesterday they almost lost their Small Dog Family stamp of approval. [...]
[...] C.’s blog (and I highly recommend you do – she’s a hoot), you will likely recall The Stompingtons. Several months ago they moved out of C. and J.’s complex (much to the relief of those [...]
[...] after university when one gets a Real Job, but is still laughably poor. There are rare cases like My Lord and Lady Stompington, but when they rear their heads, people in the building are likely to mention such behavior to the [...]
[...] obtuse take a while longer, to the amusement/annoyance of their neighbors. My Lord and Lady Stompington never learned, and their departure is regretted by no one. While my Lord and Lady [...]