Neighbourly Conspiracy?

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Zombie vs. Baby

Now here’s what I’m getting at…

A friend of mine who’s obviously as enthralled by toddlers as I am recently posted this image on his Facebook page. The first thought that crossed my mind, as the usual thumping was occurring over my head, was to print this image and tack it on my neighbour’s door. It would be rude, but I don’t give a flying fuck (or any other type of fuck).

I was making myself something to eat last night after calling home for Mom’s 83rd birthday when the noise got progressively worse to the point I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I turn off the stove to go knocking on my neighbour’s door …again. When dad opened the door, holding back his devils with one arm, I just looked at him, raised my arms up in the air in a “What the fuck” expression and said nothing …because it was obvious why I was there and there was nothing to be said.

However, my forceful three knock on neighbour’s door led the Hispanic tenant across the hall to open his own door to see what was going on. After I stepped away from the offending/offensive neighbour’s door, I ended up having a little chat with him and his guest, who, as it happens, is also a neighbour who lives directly below my neighbour across the hall.

Observation One: I get the feeling I’m not the only Friend of Dorothy in the building. As we chatted, two adult guests of Offending/Offensive Neighbour With the Kids From Hell left, but I paid little attention to them as they walked by me except to note to myself that they were among those blasted singing Christians. When I returned to my place, the noise continued, albeit one notch down on a scale of 1 to 10.

This morning was another typical Saturday morning and early afternoon: noisy and thumping. Around noon I had set an appointment to get my hair cut in the Village at 2:00, but as I was leaving for my appointment I bumped into the Hispanic neighbour in the hallway, who was moving stuff for, as it turns out, the dog lady with whom I began talking when I realized she wasn’t standoffish as much as terrified of our janitor and her brood. We all talked briefly; when I said to Hispanic neighbour that I’m hoping they move out next July 1st, he opined they may well do so because they’re afraid of the dogs. Dog Lady, who’s hard of hearing, then asked me, “You mean those Chinese kids?” Which I confirmed.

Next time I get the chance to see the janitor, I’ll complain again and insist not only that she should talk to them but that she must ask the landlord to send them a formal letter of complaint. To that, Hispanic neighbour and Dog Lady said they would do whatever they could to make life as miserable as possible for the Offending/Offensive family by not holding back their dogs and what not — all within reasonable boundaries and only when the opportunity just happens to fall in their lap, I assume. (By the way, these dogs are big but wouldn’t hurt a fly, so this only sounds like a nasty thing to do.)

“I have seniority over them in this building,” I said, to which they echoed, “So do we!”

You know what? This all ties into the changes I’ve been going through in the past months as a result of therapy. How well has always trying to be the nice guy worked out for me? Obviously not well if it got me in that state! And what if these people eventually get evicted or driven batty by “unfriendly” neighbours? Well, quite frankly, if they don’t realize that they must set boundaries on themselves while living among others, then they would be getting what they deserve.

No, none of this sounds like the old me. I’ve come to make peace with myself over something fundamental: that taking a stand for what’s rightfully mine might be confrontational at time, but if I don’t do it, no one else will do it for me.

It’s funny… That’s more or less what a colleague at work said to me when I came back to work last month. “Take care of yourself,” she said, “because no one else will.” She meant that in the context of the corporate environment we’re both in, but it’s true elsewhere in life.

My next appointment with Lucy is on Thursday. I’ll be telling her the appointment after that will be my last. I think in the six months since I reached out for help and now, I’ve learned what I needed to learn and I’m very much on track to putting all of that into practice.

Now I wonder what I could do about the Canadian-edition featherbrained chavette next door who screams like hell while fucking to make her boyfriend believe she’s having a far more shattering good time than she really is…