Jude - walked softly but carried a big, noisy stick?
If you've followed my blog for more than a day, or if you've met me, you probably know that I've been plagued by a noisy upstairs neighbor. Michael is not noisy in the "likes loud music" way. More like in a"has insomnia and stomps around on squeaky floorboards above my bed between 12-5am every night" way.
During the three years I've lived here, his stomping has repeatedly robbed me of countless hours of sleep and caused my blood pressure to spike.
"You should talk to him," I can imagine you saying. Trust me - I have. I've had him (and his partner, Jude) down for wine to discuss it. I've had them down for a demonstration of the noise. I've offered to fund new flooring for him.
And the thing is, Michael's been pretty cool about it. He's ripped up his floor, had carpenters out to fix the squeak, and has laid carpet in the room above my bedroom. Unfortunately, none of that has worked, so we've been at an impasse: He's tried to fix what he can (short of his behavior) and I've tried to run interference with a white noise machine, ear plugs and music.
Despite the fact that I think he's a nice guy, I've spent more than a minute lying in bed at 3am, staring at the ceiling, wishing all kinds of not-nice things upon him.
I hate to type this for fear of jinxing myself, but - knock wood! - I think we've finally solved the problem! Since the week before Christmas, things have been markedly more quiet upstairs. I've been scratching my head, trying to figure out what changed, even secretly wondering if Michael and Jude moved out of the country and found a light-footed tenant.
Alas - the mystery was solved this last week when I ran into Michael in the hall. "Happy New Year!" he proclaimed. I wished him a happy new year in return and was on the cusp of asking if he'd been traveling when he volunteered, "Jude and I broke up!"
As soon as he said it, the pieces fell into place. Before I could even offer condolences, Michael continued, "I bet you're sleeping better now that he's not stomping around, aren't you?"
I nodded, speechless. On some level, I felt like I owed Michael an apology for mentally blaming him for the stomping - or now for celebrating his break-up. Instead, I asked, "How are you doing with this?" meaning, "Is there any chance you'll get back together?"
Michael's response was perfect, "I'm great! I'm going on a single's cruise at the end of the month."
Beautiful.
Just don't bring anyone home with you. I think you need to work through some commitment issues for a few years.
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