I deserve a medal or a peace prize, at the very least some sort of red ribbon or gold star. Why? Because I have not yet broken down the door of my neighbour’s apartment and dumped a bottle of ketchup on her head. Things have gone from bad to worse. Last Saturday morning she was at it again. Stomping around at 6:51, slamming drawers shut at 7:30, dragging furniture across my bedroom ceiling at 8:15, then the heels. All. Day. Long.
I met her gaze over the big garbage bin outside our building once, and she just stared at me. And I just stared back. Normally, I have an abundant supply of snappy snark fit for any occasion, but I was so cognitively impaired from sleep deprivation that I had nothing. Plus, I was afraid if I got started, I would have skipped right over speaking and proceeded directly to slapping.
I’m disappointed with all this—that she continues despite our official complaint to the concierge and building management company. In fact, her worsening behaviour seems to be quite deliberate and I’m pretty sure the complaint is the reason. So, loud she is, logical she is not. I thought Switzerland was the land of rules and regulations. And, judging by Neil’s $250 ticket for doing 60 in a 50 zone, it is. My friend upstairs, I’ve discovered, is French. Do with that nugget of knowledge what you will.
But I’m also disappointed that I can’t seem to tune it out or at least adapt somehow. I mean I’ve survived a 5-year soul crushing residency, multiple spine surgeries, a grueling year of physical rehab to overcome a paralyzed leg, and two years without sour cream. Yet this situation has sent me into a spin of fatigue and irritation to rival the most powerful PMS on the planet.
Well, you know what they say, when the going gets tough, the tough beat the shit out of their neighbours. Oh now, I’m joking, I’m way too passive for that sort of thing and I’m way too smart to threaten someone on the Internet. The tough get going is what I meant to say and that’s exactly what we’re doing. My genius husband has negotiated our way out of our lease (now that was a process) and we’ll be moving—again—as soon as we can find another place.
Sounds drastic I know, but it was indeed a drastic sound that finally put us over the top. The other day, in addition to her usual symphony of delight, she treated us to an unbelievably crystal clear episode of vomiting. The heaving, the splashing and the flushing all echoing above our dining table. I can safely say that the fat lady has hurled and it is enough to send me packing.
Here we go again. Foreigners with no corporate salary slips in a rental market with a vacancy rate of less than 1% and, of course, no way to test drive a second place before taking the plunge. My nerves. Really, there’s no choice. Her boots might be made for driving people to distraction, but mine are made for walking.
What a drag! Good sleep is so necessary.I wonder if earplugs or white noise played on your CD player could drown out the heel-clicking, projectile-hurling cacaphony of the crazy above you.
Idea 2: You and Neil could have a ‘party’ when she is sleeping (2 am to 6 am). What goes around comes around as they say. Find some really offensive music or even better, sound effects that would make one bolt up out of bed:howling wloves, cats fighting,bells clanging, guns going off,polka music that never ends, etc. and position the speakers up near the ceiling.
Idea 3: How about a stink bomb of some sort. Offensive odors will usually guarantee a measure of success. Whipping up a batch of sauerkraut or something equally intense, maybe a particulaly skanky cheese placed discreetly near her door or window.
Ha! She’s French. Somehow skanky cheese would be seen as a gift ;)
Loud recorded snoring sounds right UNDER her her bedroom, speaker stuck to the ceiling. preferable in the evening when people go to bed. So what, you won’t sleep either but thee are ear plugs?
We would except that’s actually illegal to do. We’ve tried earplugs, white noise, you name it. The building is an acoustic wonder, amplifying and bouncing sound around like nothing I’ve ever experienced. We’re outta here. Life’s too short.
Okay, I feel very badly about all of this, but that video has me laughing my arse off with those synchronized steps.
I KNOW! Isn’t it hilarious? I play it over and over just to get to the wild dancing at the end.
On your moving day, will you be giving Elephant Foot a few choice words about common courtesy?
And, to change the subject slightly, if cloning ever becomes viable and legal and ethical, can I have a sample from your husband?
Yes, I’d say he’d be fine with that, but remember there’s no selective cloning. You get the snoring, gas and weird social stuff along with everything else ;)
So the second chapter of your new book is “Finding Me in Switzerland…Again.” And I like to think the stress from making all that noise is making that young woman sick. #karma #payback
Judging by the strength in her stomp, I’d say she is fit as a fiddle.
Proof your husband is a genius!
As my dearly departed Italian mother might have
said “You shoulda never left Brooklyn…er I mean
France” and other meaningless cliches.
Nevertheless, I wish you and your brilliant
(if-you-got-a-tough-job-let-a-man-do-it)
husband…
Bonne Chance, Bon Voyage and Bon Bon(s)
Not to undermine Neil’s brilliance, but the main issue here is fluency in French. A few more lessons and I would have done it myself ;)
That husband of yours. . . . Le sigh.
I would have been celebrating with party horns at the sound of the heeled bitch hurling. I hope there are more days like that in her future.
Buy 10,000 copies of FMIF and he’s yours. But then you have to cook for me ;)
Why not meet with her, quietly ask her to be more reasonable or you will have no choice but call the police for disturbing the peace.
Ah, we tried that. She walked away in the middle of that conversation. We did write her a very nice letter inviting her to meet. She replied by ramping up her noise. I know when to say when. I’ll move on, I’ll be 100% honest with anyone who comes to view the apartment and I wish her well. As bad as it is living here, I can only imagine how bad it must be to live inside her head.
Good luck on your apt search! There is a full night of quiet restful sleep (and many more) out there somewhere for you!
Merci bien!
Wow!! There was no choice–sleep is pretty important, totally essential actually. Hope find a “beauty” new spot soon.
Thanks for that awesome video…hilarious!!
It’s a classic!
Go-go boots! I remember those! (I’m *ahem* a bit older than you) And now I know why I dance like I do :) Thank you for that video!!
My total sympathy on the sleep deprivation – there’s a reason it is used as a torture device. Good luck with the moving and all it entails.
Jo, now you have to post a pic of you in the boots or dancing, either way ;)
How frustrating! I feel your pain my dear.
When I moved back to Vancouver 6 years ago I was renting an apt. in a wood framed building. I was on the top floor so, I thought at least I won’t have someone tramping around above me. What I didn’t know about was the chain smoker with serious respiratory issues below me.
The night I was awakened by the mattress coils in my bed vibrating from his freight-train-like snoring was the final straw. Now I live in a solid concrete building and I hear nothing above, below or next door.
Good luck with the search for a quieter place.
ACK! Solid concrete is my ream as well right now.
We once used stink bombs – the truck is to get a large bore straw (do you have, horror, MacDonald’s? – or a bubble tea shop)? Insert said straw into keyhole, pour contents of stick bomb down straw – run. Repeat p.r.n.
Now, how do I make this comment anonymous?
P.S. It works unless victim is a stinky drunken alcohol abusing adolescent who has such a strong odour and state of intoxication that nothing gets beyond the brainstem.
Concrete – boots?
Very crafty!!
Bobbi, Lotsa luck in finding new digs, the lunatic upstairs gives new meaning to the phrase “it takes all kinds”. Mother of god, you must be nearly drove out of your mind. Loved the video, so pleased that the sleep deprivation has not robbed you of your wicked sense of humour.(Remember the go-go boots soooo well, dem were the days.)
Drove, maid, drove right off me head.
Quiet enjoyment is the legal term here in the US — you are entitled to the quiet enjoyment of your domicile. anything less than that means you can sue.
I’d think that your landlord, having lost one tenant who has a platform from which to warn off future tenants, will now be motivated to get her ass in gear in do something about the problem. If you need help blacklisting a certain numero on the rue de la Paix, let us know.
They are pretty strict here as well. She can legally do what she wants after 7 a.m. and simply be a shitty neighbour but not a criminal. Merde.
My goodness how far music videos have come! I needed a chuckle.
Your apartment nightmare is so un-swiss. When I lived there they were so polite. We always felt like rude Canadians. Maybe that’s the reason you were able to get this apartment in the first place. Everyone keeps moving out and they can’t do anything about the upstairs tenant.
Something better will turn up. Your life always seems to come up roses. You’ll find some lovely little cottage with a live in butler on the lake.
Nuts4dogs
Oh I have the butler already.
Great song, horrific choreography! Can’t you just go up there and scream at her? How old is this imbecile?
Oh, I am so sorry she continues to be the worst, loudest neighbor on the planet! I think moving is exactly the right thing to do. Sending you lots of good vibes for a swift conclusion to your search!
So much for the Peace road, eh? Good luck with the hunt for a new place,as well as some sleep!