My Week 80: The Serial Killer Upstairs Strikes Again

Tuesday: The serial killer upstairs strikes again

So if you read my essays on a regular basis, you’ll remember that I’ve had an ongoing issue with the person who lives above me in Toronto. He likes to hammer. Not like MC Hammer, which would be fun and cool and very ‘pantsy’–he likes to hammer things in his condo. I’m convinced that he’s building a secret room in his unit to stash his victims until he bores of them. The last time he was hammering, the concierge stupidly told him that I’d complained about it, and he came to my door to “negotiate a schedule”. He claimed he was “laying a floor”, and I apologize for the copious use of quotation marks, but I had trouble believing him, since he’d been making these types of noises for a long time, and I’d complained on three separate occasions. Let me just say, for the record, that my building is pretty sound-proof; I never hear anything from the units around me, so he must be really going to town for it to even register down in my unit. Anyway, the other night, he woke me up around 4:15, hammering sporadically until 7:00 am. I’d like to emphasize that these condos are barely above 600 square feet in dimension, so how many f*cking renovations do you need to do, d**chebag? And if you’re that bored at 4 in the morning, you could watch TV, or pleasure yourself. Or pleasure yourself while you watch TV, if you have those ‘special channels’. At any rate, the next day, I called the building manager and left a message. I’m terrible at voice messages, and I left something that was very lengthy and convoluted, and in retrospect, probably sounded a little diva-ish, so I ran it by my work partner:

Me: I called the building manager and left a message.
L: What did you say?
Me: Well, I just explained the situation. But I said the guy “seemed to have a penchant for nocturnal home renovations”.
L: Oh my god, did you actually say, “a penchant for nocturnal home renovations”?
Me: I know, right? I got flustered, and it just slipped out.
L: How does THAT just slip out?
Me: My brain’s on overdrive. I’m really tired from all the f*cking hammering.
L: You should have just said THAT.

The next morning though, I got an email from Colette, the manager, telling me that she’d sent the guy a “Notice of Noise Violation Letter”. Then I got worried, because he’s going to know it was me. But Ken installed a chain lock on my condo door the last time he was here, and just because I’m Canadian doesn’t mean I have to open the door in the first place if he shows up again. I can just pretend I’m not home. And it’s been pretty quiet since then, which I hope doesn’t mean he’s laying in wait for me in the parking garage. If anything happens to me, you’ll know who to look for first.

8 thoughts on “My Week 80: The Serial Killer Upstairs Strikes Again

  1. Good to know…but seriously, what is that guy doing banging around at that time…then again, when I’m hypomanic, I have been known to get out of bed at 3am to paint the living room. Once I even peeled off all the old wallpaper and hung new stuff…how did we not know then that I’m bipolar…? Anyhoo, not about me, this is about you. Stay safe. Carry your keys like a weapon, you know, have them sticking out from between your fingers.


  2. The sprorfe sounds like a good idea if your goal is to cut one side of your mouth. Then you can turn it over and cut the other side and be a Heath Ledger Joker!
    All your other ideas sound brilliant, though, and every inventor has some successes and some failures. Except for the small TV that looks like a book. It’s a brilliant idea, but I believe it’s what the kids call a Kindle Fire.
    I bet that’s what your upstairs neighbor is doing. He’s really an inventor, but he’s one of those with many more failures than successes. I know whenever something I try fails my first response is to pound on the floor or a wall in frustration.
    Hopefully your neighbor is like me. I never take my frustration out on anything living.
    Oh, and Bailey’s Irish Cream is made with real cream so it does have protein. Add giving everyone a reason to drink more to your list of successes.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I loved the taste of baby aspirin, too. Loved it. I felt like it was my lucky day when I was sick enough to need it. Of course, now we know all about Reye syndrome. I’m surprised I survived childhood.

    I do disagree on the gummy vitamins, though. I was looking for a good multi the other day, and ALL I could find were gummies. I want pills. I’m an adult. I don’t want to chew for good health.


  4. Oh yeah, I ate so much baby aspirin. Mmmmm. It was the closest thing we had to candy in our house. True about TV watching. If my husband is working out in the yard, I feel not guilty being on the laptop, but if I was to turn on the TV, I would feel like I should be out there helping him (so I don’t!). What does he think I am doing on the laptop? It’s worse than watching American Idol, I am sure of that.

    Liked by 1 person

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