Early Morning Rising.

7 days since my last post.  On a good note, my kids are healthy and have returned to school.  On the flip side, I am either getting a cold or beginning to suffer from allergies.  Hard to tell which.  Being new to Maine, I’m probably susceptible to “foreign” pollen or something.  But I’m also just plain beat.  Keeping baker’s hours is no picnic.  I used to despise coffee.  Now, DAY 6 of JAVATHON! and I am consuming it with a passion I once reserved solely for booze.  My husband is enjoying the novelty. I am enjoying the bUZZZ.

Yet despite all best efforts to caffeinate myself, I am still almost perpetually tired.  And, unfortunately, a portion of this fatigue is simply beyond my control.  That’s right folks.  I have a problem.  A serious problem called apartment living.  I managed to escape this dreary fate for 8 glorious years, but now I am trapped.  For the next 3 months, or maybe even longer… If someone will not BUY MY HOUSE!!!!! OOHHHH PLEEAASSSSE.  PLEEEEAAASSSSEEEE.  WON’T YOU??? It is soooo PREEEETTTTY and I am asking SOOOooooOOOOO NIICEEEEELLLLLYYYY.

SO. IN SUMMARY.  Sleep cut short by my new employ = GOOD.  Sleep shaved off by my living circumstance = BAD.  We would up and move, but as we’re already strapped w/ 2 mortgages, a boatload of debt, a signed lease, 2 kids in school, pets out the wazoo, yada yada blah blah blah… we’re not going anywhere.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love this apartment.  LOVE IT.  The place is fabulous.  Sunny, spacious, a stone’s throw from school.  Great neighborhood – a little yuppie for my taste, but still. T-rrific.

But living on the 2nd floor of a 3-story house means we have neighbors.  UPSTAIRS neighbors.  Who seem nice and all, but keep completely different hours from us.  We are a family w/ 2 children in school.  They are 2 singles w/ night jobs and/or a penchant for partying.  A sit-com in the making?  Perhaps.  But NOT REALLY FUNNY.  Our neighbors come home late.  MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT late.  Our bedroom is right next to the stairwell; our headboard literally beside it.  My REM sleep is being broken several nights each week – sometimes twice a night.  And when I go to bed close to midnight and have to rise at the crack of dawn to bake, those hours are PRECIOUS.

But all of that — the noisy entrance, clomping up the stairs and door slamming I would take.  Willingly.  If the dude above me would simply stop having sex.  My problem in a nutshell?  His nut sack.  Tackle box.  Wild willy.  His pelvic thrusts worthy of GUINNESS BOOK FAME.  YOU HEARD ME.  My neighbor’s penis is getting on my NERVES.

What people do behind closed doors is their private business and theirs alone.  AT LEAST IN THEORY. Problem is, theory went out the effing window when it moved into a 2-bedroom apt below Sir Humps A. Lott.  Our first morning here we thought we were witnessing a freak earthquake.  I hadn’t heard anything about earthquakes in Maine, but hey, they happen everywhere, right?  WRONG.  That was NO EARTHQUAKE.  That was a taste of things to come.  My husband and I began noticing things – subtle at first, and then downright HARD TO MISS>.  Like when we felt the whole damn house shaking.  When our headboard began whacking itself against the wall.  Our dresser contents began shifting and our door threatened to break off its hinges and go cascading down the hall.  You see, Humpers likes to do the deed every couple days for a whole heaping helping of time.  And since he’s such a night owl, you can guess who’s UP when we’re NOT.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5.  I’m not counting, those are just his hours.  But it’s not consistent.  Oh no.  That would be too easy.  He likes to putz around for a while.  A creak here – a creak there — juuuuuusssst enough to wake you from SOUND SLEEP.  Then, right when you’re about to nod off again – BANG!  BAM BAM BAM BAMMMMMMMMMMM.  Which would be fine, if he would just FINSH THE HELL UP ALREADY.  But no. NO.  That goes on for – who knows how the hell long.  I have lost count.  Meanwhile, I am laying there, TRAPPED beneath my upstairs neighbor, trying to ignore THE WHOLE DAMN ROOM VIBRATING.. it’s unbe-f*cking-lievable.  A woman should be able to retire to bed, make sweet love to her husband, and go to sleep — NOT TO BE AWAKENED BY THE UNTOWARD ADVANCES OF HER UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.  I feel like going up there and hosing him down.

But what can I do??  Really?  Not much.  I can joke, but laughter only lasts so long.  We can’t switch rooms w/ our daughters. b/c that’s just plain wrong.  It doesn’t help to sleep on the couch.  Not enough room for me AND my husband, and besides — Humpers damn ass shakes the whole front of the house, couch included.  We can’t up and move.  To break the lease would cost too much money – which we don’t have.  And it would be nearly impossible to find another apt in the school district which would take lease breakers with a zoo.. Seriously.  We are stuck.  My dad suggested slipping the Humpenator a sticky bun laced w/ saltpeter… “That’ll keep him from rising for a while..” But I think that’s cause for legal action.  I cannot imagine trying to have a conversation w/ this person about his sex life.  He can do whatever he wants in his own apartment. SIGH…. For once, I am completely at a loss.


— On Wed, 4/8/09, <curlywurlygurly@verizon.net> wrote:

So, how goes your new life in Maine?  How's john's job?
The girls are making friends and enjoying school??
you've unpacked all the boxes and set up
house? Let me know. xoxo

I know this isn’t QUITE what you were expecting Curls, but as I’ve already discussed feet, underwear, and copulating animals crackers here.. why not get a little personal?  So here goes.

19 days in Portland. and we are settling in well.  The boxes are all unpacked (save for those hidden beneath our beds and they DO NOT COUNT), and the apartment is in order.  I have to say, coming from a 3 story house I’d never have imagined I’d like any apartment, but I truly love this place.  So sun filled and spacious; my plants have never known such bliss.  John seems to be enjoying his new job, which is much the same as his old job @ PENN, but w/ more responsibility.  The girls are loving their new school.  Maddie had her first assembly today – she got to do an African dance w/ her classmates and play a Nigerian rhythm on the drum.


Both she and Georgia have made wonderful friends quickly. The day after we moved in, they were already going to the park w/ neighbors, and Madison had her first play date by the end of the week. Georgia – that crazy 5 year old – already has her first real crush (CANNOT NAME NAMES) and a birthday party to go to next week. Me? I’m having a blast exploring Portland, taking photos and OF COURSE Blahhhhhging once more. Oh, and I’ve gotten a job.  YES I KNOW I HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN HERE 3 WEEKS. But Kismet is Kismet.

I’m finding Portland is small. In a good way.  Coming to a brand new city, one w/ roughly the same population as the “neighborhood” I used to reside in, is reassuring. I’m walking everywhere and not getting lost. I say hi to people I meet and almost everyone is friendly. Parents from school have gone out of their way to approach me, introduce themselves and welcome our family.  It’s been lovely.

And transitioning back to apartment living after 8 years away has gone fairly well. Except that our refrigerator clucks. LIKE A CHICKEN. At random intervals, for no apparent reason, the fridge begins to BOCK – b-B-BB-BOCK. This goes on for several seconds at a time, then stops.  As perplexing, is the unknown tenant who lives above us. I have met the 2 college guys who live downstairs. I have met one of the tenants above. But the other tenant on the third floor remains a complete MYSTERY. I’ve met his, or her, girlfriend, who is very nice by the way.  But after 19 days in this building, I’ve yet to meet him/her.  His/her name is a very unusual one, one which could go either way (boy or girl).  And although we hear ALL KINDS of noises from above – I’ve yet to establish gender. I do not want to be so rude as to ask.  IS YOUR ROOMMATE A BOY OR A GIRL>>>???  That just sounds weird.  [Though between you & me, I am GUESSING it’s a GIRL.]  It’s not like I want to force myself on this person and become his or her best friend.  I’d just like to put a face to the noises. name.  I’ve come home a couple times and/or been leaving, and have heard the door opening upstairs and someone coming out. But they’ve always waited silently for me to enter my apt or depart the premises before coming downstairs. I am seriously considering some sort of SURPRISE! Say, waiting until he/she THINKS I’ve gone in, but really I am standing outside the door w/ a crazy grin.


What do you think?