i am exhausted.
not because i’ve spent hours ironing the mile high laundry collecting on my Fatboys since January, not because i’ve been scrubbing the stove after overzealous tofu frying, not because i’ve been scraping the carbonised cheese bits at the bottom of the oven, not because i’ve been secretly and rigorously following a Bellydance Your Flab Away!!! (superfluous exclamation marks included) video at home while Ravi’s at work, no, no, no.
because, because, our neighbours were having pre-dawn sex again.
we do not know this because stray used condoms magically fly into our window from above or thankfully, also not because we can hear their 115dB over-dramatised groans that would be better reserved for porn movies.
we know this because, very unfortunately, we can hear the legs of their bed dragging with every thrust.
they are our new neighbours. the Missus of the House must also be genetically cursed with heavy arms because she just looooves dragging chairs, bears and dead bodies across their living room in the day and at 0300am.
some weeks ago, she was also knocking a lot. for a long, long, long period of time. then she stopped. just as i was about to drop to my knees to give thanks, she started hammering away again.
the only logical explanation for this is she must have been working on a marble statue, hammering away to perfect that muscular contour on the gluteus maximus (Eds thinks my noisy neighbouress was sculpting David, but going by the amount of amorous pre-dawn love-making, i’m ready to bet it’s a sculpture of her husband instead).
then, she keeps dragging the sculpture around the house because all the corners she’d put Him in did unspeakable injustice to the greatness! the magnificence! the sheer grandeur! of what embodied love is to her.
i just want to sleep.
without chairs dragging across the floor above me. Ravi sleeps like a bear in hibernation. i sleep like a paranoid undercover agent on the run.
i’ve contemplated delivering cupcakes spiked with happy pills to our neighbour above, so that she’d spend a good part of the day giggling and drooling on her sofa. if it goes really well, i’d even take a bite out of the happy cupcake and gleefully drool on her sofa with her.
cos you don’t want the neighbour above you to be pissed at you.
but i’ll just put up with it, because we only have a few weeks more on this apartment.