Hello, it is I: the grumpy old lady who  lives above you, who thumps her wooden leg on the ground when you are trying to have a party. OR: YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!!!! The kids, and I do mean children, despicable, stupid, inconsiderate, immature ‘human beings’ who live in the apartment below me, like to have parties every couple of months. And I don’t mean ‘party’ per se. I mean: RAVE. I mean, discotech? With people smoking and screaming and throwing up on the stairs, with crappy house music shaking the building. The worst part is, they are musicians and so have those giant speaker / subwoffer things so the building is literally transformed into a club.

When this happens, I am usually trying to sleep, and my angry, half-asleep self summons this wrath like none I have ever felt. I imagine bursting into their apartment with a shotgun, screaming self-righteous things like ‘HOW DARE YOU?! SOME PEOPLE WORK ALL WEEK! SOME PEOPLE NEED THEIR SLEEP!’ Etc.

But then, in the morning, the wrath has simmered. And I no longer want them dead, but maybe just punched in the face, just a little bit.