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Tara

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My name's Tara, and I live in the fabulous city of Atlanta (go Braves!) I enjoy reading, music, and long walks in the park. When I'm not busy lusting over Derrick from the Real World/Road Rules Challenge on MTV, I enjoy trying my hand in the kitchen. My family are genuine, "straight off the boat" It...

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(Do Not) Love Thy Neighbor.

Set aside the obvious downfalls of being unemployed, and being homebound really isn’t all that bad.

Everything you need is at your disposal. Rather than suffocating in the grayness of a cubicle, your desk is your couch cushions, and your laptop, television and refrigerator are all the utilities you’ll ever need. Not only do you not have to set your alarm clock, but you have the option of waking up at your leisure. Couple that with the fact that you don’t have to fight traffic in any way, shape or form, and being stuck at home is a pretty sweet deal.

Now, if I could only get rid of that annoying creature in the apartment above me, I’ll be all set.

Even as I’m typing this, I’m fearful that the ceiling may cave in due to the brigade she’s running up there. I’ve never seen the girl’s face before, but I am all too familiar with the pounding noise of her feet pacing back-and-forth non-stop on top of my head. Don’t get me wrong - I realize we are all different in our behaviors, but I don’t see how it’s physically possible for one human being to be in motion for so long without stopping. I liken it to my personal Chinese water torture.

What the heck is she doing up there? More importantly, why doesn’t she ever take a rest? Maybe she’s one of those excessive exercisers, refusing to stop movement even for a second for fear that a single calorie might catch up to her. Maybe she’s on Speed. Maybe she has an OCD about cleaning that keeps her going like the Energizer Bunny. Or maybe she’s just a pain-in-the-ass by nature. Yeah, I think I’ll go with that.

If she’s not pacing, she’s pounding. I’m convinced she’s building a tree-house or something similar in her spare time; the sound of hammering is an all-too familiar one for me. Better yet, I’d say she’s building a tree-house from atop her kitchen counters, jumping down onto the floor to fetch her nails, tools and whatever-the-hell else she needs to continue her mayhem. I usually consider myself a sound sleeper, but I’ve been woken up in the wee hours more than once by her earth-shattering nature.

(Shut the hell up!)

Geez, she’s really stirring up something tonight. Last night, I wake up at about 2 a.m. to what sounded like two people trying to break in through my bedroom window. The voices were muffled, but it was clear that they belonged to a male and female. Half asleep, I soon realized that they were coming from both my floor and Loud Girl’s floor. In between Bella barking madly, I hear bits of their conversation:

Male: “Just put your feet in between the poles and climb down!”

Loud Girl: “This isn’t funny! I’m scared!”

Male: “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you. It’s not that big of a drop.”

Loud (and now whiney) Girl: “I can’t! Call so-and-so. I don’t – argh!”

Man, she’s a piece of work. I don’t know the exact details of what went on last night, but this morning, I couldn’t help but notice a man-made rope composed of a belt and shirt dangling from her balcony onto mine. While I’m certainly no Sherlock Holmes, I couldn’t help but get the impression that some dingbat managed to lock herself out of the house. But in her defense, I was once a young and stupid girl as well.

I suppose I could go up there and politely ask her to be quieter, but if you think about it, I shouldn’t have rented an apartment if noise was that big of an issue to me. On the other hand, this goes way beyond your average apartment noise. And to be honest, she’s gotten under my skin so much by now, that there’s no guarantee I wouldn’t choke her upon a face-to-face meeting.

Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them.