Thursday, November 15, 2007

An Open Letter To My Neighbor Above Me

Dear Upstairs Neighbor;

I get it.
You have sex.
My understanding of your sex life is actually far more comprehensive then my understanding of my own sex life. Every night I wake up to the sound of your headboard slamming against the beams above my wall. Your sex is timely as well, always around 2am on the dot. Is it scheduled in your Blackberry? Normally I am right in the middle of my usual 2am dream which consists of Arctic Penguins and a bunch of British people in a pool. Regardless, you do have a consist rhythm which is, thankfully for me, only about eight pumps long, and then it is over. You also like to have sex at 7am, which has actually become a better tool for waking me up in the morning then my actual alarm now. But last Sunday, on the DAY OF JESUS MAY I REMIND YOU, at 2pm when I was trying to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, your bed was hitting the wall harder than a coke-heads jaw. I was sitting there thinking, OK, enough, I get it. I mean, for the love of Jesus, you must have sex what 14? Maybe even 18 times a week? 18 times A WEEK? I think 18 times would be a good YEAR for me. I was tempted that bright sunny Sunday afternoon to walk upstairs and bang on your door screaming, “I GET IT! YOU HAVE SEX! I GET IT, FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST ALMIGHTY, LET THE WALL REST, THE WALL IS HURTING! THE BEAMS NEED A DAY OFF!” How much sex do you need to be having? I suggest one time a year. How about that? How about you read some books? Or invest in a hobby, such as darts, or chess? I also have some face masks and old teeth retainers that, when worn, I have found as a very preventative tool for ever having any sex ever again. Maybe you need a good show to watch at night? May I suggest CSI Miami? TLC’s A Baby Story? Or even ESPN’s How to Catch a Fish? And as much as I loved hearing your eight pumps in all their glory this morning, I have to say, I could do without. So please dear Neighbor, appease me and next time you feel like causing all the beams in my ceiling to shake and crack, remember that picking up a methamphetamine habit would be much more considerate.
Thank you,

Your Neighbor Below,

NYC Ponderings