Saturday mornings, to me, are often spent cleaning up my apartment while my husband is at school. Sometimes I do some homework, sometimes I go shopping, and sometimes I talk on the phone while I clean. Rarely is there ever a Saturday that music can not be heard coming from my third floor apartment building. It's never crude music. Sometimes it's Josh Groban, or Jamie Cullum, maybe a little bit of Enya, or the upbeat tempos of the All American Rejects or Coldplay, it all totally depends on the mood I am in. For the past few months we have been extremely lucky in that no one has lived in the apartment below us. We used to have a great neighbor by the name of Pete. He had a surround sound system in his apartment and would watch movies with the volume up really loud. I'd like to think he did that so we could watch the movie too. He was kind like that. :) So my brother and I would often play lots of music so he could listen as well. A couple of times I would leave the apartment only to hear his little boy singing one of the very songs we had recently played. He was a great neighbor. But he moved and now James and I have had the freedom of listening to all our music and movies at slightly higher levels...until now. I'm going through my Saturday morning schedule, listen to the soundtrack from the Garden State movie when I hear a loud knock on the door. I open it up and see one of the leasing office ladies standing before me, a plasta-smile on her face. She says, "Hi!" all perky and peppy, and flips her hair as she does so.
"I'm from the leasing office and I was just downstairs in the apartment below you where someone is moving in. We can hear every word of your music so I'm going to have to ask you to turn it down." I noticed that she didn't even break a frown there anywhere. I could see her teeth with every word.
"Oh! Sure. I'm sorry. I didn't realize that someone was moving in. I was just doing some chores. I'll turn it down. Sorry about that." I reply, in total honesty because I was playing the music through my DVD player on my TV in the living room. The TV we have now is one of those 1970 floor model swivel TVs that I got at a garage sale some six years ago for a whopping $20.00. Not too shabby. However since it's on the floor it's easier for others below us to hear what we are watching and listening to. One of the few downfalls of living on the top floor of any apartment complex.
"Yeah, it's kind of loud. Thanks!!" She flashes her smile then says, "Your fun is now over!" as she bounces back down the stairs and gets in her little golf cart to drive back over to the leasing office.
I peaked my head out the window to see if there was a moving truck or people coming from the apartment below, but I saw nothing. I turned my music down but it's just not the same without it ringing through the house. My motivation is no longer there....I miss Pete.
4 comments:
I say down with the leasing officer....hahaha....I remember that TV, I used to play my playstation on it. Has it been that long? Holy crap cakes!!! Hey I think you should add a section called childhood stories....ahaha. And we could all send you and email about one of our fondest memories and you could post it.
That's a great idea, Joe. I think I will do that. Look for something coming soon!!!
I wish I had a childhood memory.
I think that I am going to create my own blog. I will print up a piece of paper and hang it on the garage door everyday. Then i will have a pad and a pen off to the side where people can leave comments!!!! hooray for Sam!!
hehe. Pete, i miss him too. I laughed when i heard you mention pete. i remember the nights i slept at your apartment and would here the music coarse through the floor when i was trying to go to sleep. Ahh good times
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