Tag Archives: neighbors

The Grinch Who Stole Childhood

I really need some reassurance here because I totally feel like the Grinch who stole childhood. But this was justified, right?

Background: kid across the hall constantly plays soccer in the hallway. Literally uses people’s apartment doors as goals. Now that the weather is getting colder, these indoor soccer sessions are increasing, and lasting for hours. No, I have no idea why he isn’t in school. He’s at least 11 years old.


So parents out there, it’s ok that I went and ruined this kid’s fun, correct? I’m not a mean old cranky neighbor lady, right? It was justified, don’t you think?*

*In case the leading questions didn’t make this obvious, I am seeking agreement responses only. This is not a situation where I am interested in diverse opinions. Solely looking to avoid guilt tears as I sit here typing common-sore aligned math problems beneath the glow of my therapy lamp.


Small Talk is Hard

A few months ago a girl moved into my building– young, a teacher, seemingly normal and cool. Someone I would actually hang out with. We spoke in the lobby for a bit, exchanged apartment numbers, and said we’d see each other soon. I haven’t run into her since– until just now, in the elevator.

Girl: “Hey! How have you been?!”

Me: “Not much!”

And then our friendship ended.


I’m Full of Brilliant Ideas


I just walked into my lobby alongside another young woman, who I’ve never seen before but who apparently lives in my building. We approach the mailboxes, and she points to a set of apartment keys dangling out of a mailbox.

Her: “You see those keys? That’s my husband.”
Me: (laughing) “That’s hilarious.”
Her: “Well the irony is, he would KILL me if I did something like that! I do absent minded stuff all the time and he’s so critical!”
Me: “Well then you should definitely take a photo of it and hold this over him until the end of time.”
Her (wide-eyed): “Oh my god, that’s SUCH a good idea!” (takes photo) “Brilliant. I take it you use this tactic with your husband?”
Me: “I don’t have a husband.”

Perhaps this is why.

An Open Letter to the Dog Playing Piano Upstairs


Dear Dog Playing Piano in My Upstairs Neighbor’s Apartment,

I can only assume you are a dog, at least. It’s the only explanation for the current assault on my ears (and music in general)– that a canine is upstairs desperately trying to work an instrument that is clearly made for humans. There is no other scenario in which a piano could make THAT unpleasant a sound. When I played piano, back in my early youth, even I did a better job than what is happening up there, and trust me when I say I was quite horrible. Even the day I puked all over the keys, my instructor, and my instructor’s fancy work suit (causing him to silently stand up and walk out of my home, never to return), I did better than what you’re doing up there, you goofy, delusional shih-tzu (there’s no question you are a shih-tzu, as they are THE WORST).

But, I will throw you this bone (Hah! Get it?!)– I am totally impressed by your ability to scream “god dammit!” or “fuck!” every time your paw slips on a key (which, coincidentally, is every time your paw moves at all).

Cursing is a cool human trick. Maybe stick to that one and lay off the piano.


Your Downstairs Neighbor Who is Home Sick but Now Actually Wishes She Was At Work