Love Thy Neighbor…

This weekend was one of the happiest weekends ever, because C and I are finally (almost) completely moved out of our old apartment! Rejoice! Don’t get me wrong, the old apartment itself was nice enough. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. It even had a little porch off of the kitchen. However we quickly realized this apartment complex was full of Sketch McGretch people.

For example, one night we came home and there were three men riding around in circles in a Jeep with no lights on. It was probably around ten at night, so headlights would have been necessary. But the men were just having a grand ole time riding around in the pitch black in a dark car with no lights on. I told C that we should probably quickly exit our car, get into our own apartment and lock the door. Whatever these men were doing was probably not something we wanted to be involved in. Not long after that incident, I started noticing a sheriff’s car posting up in our parking lot nearly every morning (and most evenings too). Our neighbors would also call the cops on each other quite frequently. Sometimes family members would even call the police on other family members. How heartwarming. I love and respect the police, but I didn’t get a good feeling when they needed to spend so much time in our neighborhood.

Then came DeShawn. Oh, DeShawn. DeShawn is the little boy who lived in the apartment below us. No, I’m not a CreepMaster Flex for knowing his name. Our walls/floor were basically paper, and we could hear everything that went on in the apartments that surrounded us. For Christmas, DeShawn received a drum kit. How exciting! However, DeShawn LOVED to practice his drum kit in the evening hours. More specifically, DeShawn loved to practice his drum kit from 10pm-1am in the morning. This was confusing because DeShawn appeared to be about ten years old. At night, I would hear DeShawn’s mom yell at him to go to bed. He would yell back, and the two would argue for a bit. After a while, DeShawn’s mom would give up and DeShawn would continue to bang on the drums as C and I mentally begged DeShawn’s mommy to stop the madness.

One night, during another epic drum solo, C decided to fight back. He dribbled a basketball on our floor (their ceiling) for quite a while. Once the dribbling got quite loud, I heard voices from down below. Then the drumming stopped. C and I felt satisfied that we had showed little D who was boss. We went to bed.

The next night, we were hopeful that DeShawn would fear us and not bang on his drum kit at such an obscene hour. No such luck. Like clockwork, the symphony started up at around 10pm. Once it reached midnight and we wanted to go to bed, I told C I was calling the police and filing a noise complaint.

“NO! You can’t call the police!” He exclaimed.

I was not listening because I was googling the number for the local, non-emergency police department.

He came and shut my computer saying, “If we call the police, DeShawn’s huge, angry father will come up here and beat us to death.” Probably a fair point. We had seen and heard DeShawn’s father. He was definitely huge and angry.  But right now all I cared about was the fact that I was tired, and sleep was not an option because of a 10-year-old version of Tommy Lee.

C calmed me down and convinced me to hold off for one night. The next day he called the building manager and filed a complaint. When the next night rolled around, we waited to see if the usual 10pm drum practice would begin. We were shocked when all remained quiet on the western (or I suppose southern) front. At 11pm, still nothing. Finally at midnight, our bedtime, we were able to fall into a blissful, undisturbed sleep. Did I put the kabosh on a young boy’s musical education? Possibly. But I need my beauty rest, and nothing is going to stop that from happening.

The DeShawn experience reinforced my desire to find a new apartment, even though we still had several months left on our lease. The cherry on top was when I left for work one morning and found a condom sitting in the hallway. As I walked several more steps, I noticed half-eaten chicken wings scattered all over the floor. Later that day, I realized I forgot something and had to come home from work to retrieve it. When I pulled up to our apartment at about 1pm there was literally a crowd of people just hanging out in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I understand that not all jobs are 9am-5pm but…didn’t these people have anything else to take care of before they went to work? They all stared me up and down as I walked by them in my dress pants.  The chicken wings and the condom were still there. They would remain there for several days. Enough was enough. That night Chris and I began a serious apartment search.

After visits to apartments all over our fine city, we finally found our current place. We’ve upgraded to two bedrooms and 1 1/2 baths. We now have a man bathroom and a woman bathroom. We have enough room for guests to stay overnight AND we have a washer and dryer in our apartment. The people in our new place have jobs. They don’t leave contraceptives in public areas. They don’t play noisy musical instruments when others are trying to sleep. I have yet to see a police car in our development. These are all good things. I’ll post some pictures of the new apartment once we clean it up a little, because right now it looks like a tornado just blew through.

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  1. Love this because we’re both named Lauren and I had similar experiences! I lived in an apartment where we were sure our upstairs neighbors were prostitutes because strange men came all the time & then a creepy guy stayed there and him and a woman yelled at each other all day and night. Finally I think they got kicked out because we made tons of complaints.

    Good luck with a new place! 🙂


  2. Wow! Apartment living is QUITE interesting sometimes… I definitely love not having to mow the lawn, shovel snow, etc. though haha


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  3. […] think I’m cursed when it comes to apartment neighbors. See, at our old place we lived next to DeShawn. DeShawn LOVED to practice his drum kit at all hours of the night. This included during normal […]

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