Dear neighbor

Perhaps you are unaware that there is a unit below yours.  Well, there is, and I am the resident of that unit.

We've haven't yet gotten to know each other, though I'm optimistic that one of these days when I see you in the elevator with your large, lumpy rucksacks, you'll perhaps give me a nod of the head, or even a guttural "Hello."  Perhaps also when I knock on your door (as I initially tried in an effort to discuss what has regrettably now become the contents of this letter), you'll at least open the door just a crack, instead of tiptoeing away after looking out the peep-hole.  This is an old building; you can hear the floor creak no matter which side of the door you are on.  

Despite our initial lack of mutual companionship, I've nonetheless enjoyed a sort of quiet contentment from having you as an upstairs neighbor.  That is, until some of the rather strange noises that come from your apartment have increased in severity, to the point that I can no longer block them out - not even with my Bose® Quiet Comfort® Acoustic Noise-Cancelling Headphones.

As I mentioned earlier, I acknowledge that this is an old building, and prone to certain levels of sound transmission regardless of intent.  But perhaps you can find a way to tone down some of your activities, particularly in the early morning, as I often don't get to sleep until hours that the "working world" would find pretty uncivilized (hey, I'm not the one who schedules these World of Warcraft online tournaments).  

I'm not trying to be rude, but sometimes the noise (and the jolts and tremors) is more than I can take.

Alright, heck, since I'm already carried away typing I suppose I have to ask - what on earth are you doing up there?

At first I thought you were hand-churning butter, or maybe squashing ants with prize-winning cucumbers.  In recent weeks, though, the noises have become only more distressed and more bizarre, and as of the printing of this letter my best guess is that you are involved in the forced mating of Yorkshire terriers with a very large kangaroo. 

This is not to say that I am without quirks of my own.  Sometimes I like to lay out on my living room floor with a roll of bubble wrap, a basket of hot yams, and - well, never mind that.  My point, of course, is that the other residents of The Arden Park Apartments don't suffer the ways in which I pass my time behind closed doors.

What I am asking for is simply a renewed spirit of co-habitation-al respect, that is all.  I swear that one of these days, if my phone gets turned back on, I will call Animal Care & Control on you.  I don't want it to come to that, but I've concluded that in whatever violations you are committing up there animals are surely involved.  You will go down if you don't take me seriously.   

Oh, I almost forgot. I have this nasty - literally - tendency to poo the bed a little when I am awakened startlingly, so while I'm not saying that you owe me for dry cleaning, until I get another look at how big you are, I'm also not saying that you don't.

Looking forward to a new era of peace and quiet,

Your downstairs neighbor