Upstairs

We have living above us the next Coen Brother’s movie plot.

You think I’m joking. I’m not. I’m dead serious about it. And, no matter how much I love the Coen Brothers (“The Big Lebowski’s” dude is my hero) I don’t want the plot of their next movie living above us because DAMN IT the constant ceiling shaking WHAM WHAM WHAMS are really getting to me, and so too is the elephant stomp square dancing in two ton shoes as they cavort between the WHAMS.

This goes on for hours!

HOURS! Not one hour, not two. It will go on all evening and if it starts during the afternoon it goes on all afternoon WITHOUT CEASE. These guys don’t believe in coffee breaks.

As I sit here, it’s 11: 10 and tonight it began at about 8.

It’s getting worse, too. More frenetic and HEAVIER. I’ve started to worry about the plaster of the ceiling falling in, that’s how bad it is. I’ll look up and check to make sure the ceiling lamp’s still secure–the one in here, the one in the living room, the one in H.o.p.’s bedroom, because those wham boom collisions of whatever with the floor are happening everywhere seemingly at once.

Supposedly, two mild-mannered nurses live up there. HAHAHAHAHAH!

Three times tonight I stood and stared and wondered should I tromp up the stairs to their apartment and ask them what the hell they think they’re doing? Have they never lived in an apartment building before?