It is just past 8:00 am and the neighbor’s stereo as been blaring for the last 45 minutes.
I love music, but it’s WAY too loud and it’s bouncing from song to song; just a half-minute of one, then another, then another. I assume she is working on something – I think she is either a dancer or an aerobics instructor… but with her long platinum extensions and her cleavage, I’m ruling out the latter.
She and her boyfriend live below us. We’ve said “Hello,” once or twice when I see her outside trying to walk their two tiny Yorkshire Terriers. Her boyfriend does a better job of managing the dogs… and is more fun to watch since he looks like the cover of a romance novel; tall, tan, and muscled, with flowing blond hair. To top it all off, he has an Australian accent. I feel like a schoolgirl when he talks to me.
Back to the pretty girl: for some reason, when she takes the dogs out she won’t put them on a leash. It’s like watching slapstick comedy as the Yorkies run straight for the holly bushes in the gardens, or huddle under parked cars, just out of her reach. They are sharper than I originally gave them credit for – the dogs decided long ago to divide-and-conquer, and they make a break for it, each bolting in opposite directions.
After seeing it happen, I now know what’s going on when I hear her out in the parking lot wailing, “Lexus! Lexus! Where ARE you? Lexus, get over here, RIGHT NOW!” Although Lexus is the mastermind of the duo, he eventually allows himself be found. And she’s always relieved, showering him with kisses. Smart dog.
We realize how spoiled we were by the concrete construction of our last apartment. All through that house, not a creature was stirring – and if they were, we would never have heard them. Now, we hear the folks upstairs, who we have re-named Thunderbolt and Lightning. We hear the man across the hall and his teen-age sons; who all slam their front door, and we hear the Dancing Queen and her crew downstairs.
I have difficulty writing here. Usually I put on some light classical music and it buffers the noise. This morning Wagner and his Valkyries wouldn’t drown out the downbeat downstairs. As a Christmas gift, my love suggested buying me Bose noise–canceling headphones, and I resisted, thinking all I need is more self-discipline.
Upstairs, directly overhead, Lightning has started in on her treadmill and I’ve just changed my mind… I’d love those noise-canceling headphones. And, he doesn’t even need to wrap them!
Here’s hoping you get exactly what you need from Santa…