|
 If
I Were a Carpenter
an emily
blunt rant
If
I were a carpenter I would help the neighbors downstairs find
peace in their place! I am not so I will bitch about it instead.
What
the H-E-Double hockey sticks are they doing down there is all
I can think between the eighty thousand bangs to the wall that
begins promptly at 700am? We have the same apartment layout. The
place is small, er, cozy. Maybe 400 square feet at most. Even
if they desire to redo there are two of them. Two people divided
by 400square feet anybody should have the place done in say two
days? Three max.
I
began to calculate...and by my calculations even if they ripped
out the walls, the cabinets and the tile from the bathroom a team
of two could have repainted, re-tiled, re-grouted and re-varnished
three or four spaces our size.
They
moved in two weeks ago and you'd think DaVinci and Michelangelo
had been reborn. Bang, smash, chisel. And of course the glorious
smell of paint and turpentine commingles with the smog all ready
bellowing through my windows so I am in a perpetual state of migraine.
So
riddle me this what in blazons are they doing down there?
Admittedly
I am a private person and I enjoy a silence and boudoir that resembles
a darkened cave ( which friends refer to as "the Crypt"
) for sleeping. I have an active chickbabe lifestyle and usually
fall into slumber about three in the morning. I am what they call
a night owl. When I finally fall to slumber I need quiet...
And if truth be told, since moving into this beautiful (yet small)
dwelling I have not had one night of restful sleep.
See
there are not one, but two churches outside my window that have
a daily competition of the bells. They start at nine am and stop
about eight pm. The smaller church has a Napoleon complex about
their petite stature it seems. The use recorded bells that bellow
from four rooftop speakers circa 1941 ala Hogan's Heroes and they
seem to have one volume - full blast. I mean the sound
actually makes my place tremble and my dogs cower. Damn the lease!
To
compensate the gothic church, on the other side, with its "real"
bells has hired bell ringers who perform songs. Full-length songs
arranged for bells I suppose. Dear spirit of Bing Crosby please
stop this catholic envy 'tween the two! My eyesockets look like
a rabid racoon on dope.
So
I sleep with earplugs and a pillow over my head…it helps.
But
now Mr. And Mrs. Bohemian downstairs come along, art degrees in
tow, and decide they simply must have an artful uniquely theirs
apartment. An apartment, judging by the amount of hubbaloo, morphs
daily into yet another design. Hammers tings and tangs vibrate
the walls so the plugs and pillows do nothing, I fear, to quell
the noise.
I
am so curious as to what they've done I am thinking of baking
(buying) a welcome tort as excuse to see their weeks of toiling
and trouble. Hmm, yes. I'll go down and introduce myself - using
the tort as my white flag...
"Hi, I'm the girl upstairs…. yeah, the one who beats
the floor with the broom…. I harbor 'sleep demons' that tend
to be less than kind when I am awoken from slumber...I can not
be held responsible for anything I say or do prior to coffee dear
man…I just wanted to see what you've done with the place."
Slam.
Perhaps
not.
It's
now noon and their artistic ballet of banging has finally subsided.
They are off to Home Depot for more artillery I suppose.
Ah,
but before I can nap I will wait for the salutes from the duo
of churches and their dueling ding dongs of high noon and of course
the extra special added bell treat one has added - the latest
from the tape of ' Bell Songs for City Dwellers - Hours of Synthetic
Bell Entertainment!" to commence and cease. Then perhaps,
I can rest a wee bit before my day begins…
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