All my assignments for tomorrow are done (well mostly). I should have showered and called it a night half an hour ago. Yet, I sit here in my living room going through YouTube videos. What are people doing at this time? Most likely sleeping, writing a paper, studying for exams...you know the normal college student things. The people across the street for me have decided to do something a little different. I still don't know what they're doing. It sounds like they decided to jump an aluminum can with a baseball bat. I hear one girl scream "I didn't get to hit it yet!" What has that aluminum can done to deserve a group beating in the middle of the night.
I haven't had the best luck with neighbors. I live in an apartment back home in New York City. It's a small apartment. There are three floors with two homes on each. That's six families. I live on the first floor. Naturally, that means I hear everything that goes on. The families that have lived across from me on the first floor have had their fair share of problems. I think it's a curse (not really, but it's fun to think so).
There was this one family that had a teenage son who couldn't stay out of trouble. I was around 16 at that time. He was probably my age or a year older. I remember one night the cops showed up and dragged him to their door. They claim he broke into someone's car and slept in there. Why? Because his parents wouldn't let him in. They no longer live there.
There was a family who stole my uncle's chainsaw from the basement (which only my family has access to. Perks of being landlords). Now, there's a small surveillance camera built into a door that doesn't even open. I think it was partially my fault. Someone knocked on my door while I was still sleeping. He asked if he could use the basement. I was half-asleep and wasn't thinking. Before I knew it, I think I showed him the trick to opening the basement door without the keys. There's an extra lock on the door now.
Then there are the brats two floors above me. Ok, it's not fair to call them brats. They're just kids...who won't stop crying. It's been like eight years. This past summer was the first time I've heard no crying. There's three children in that home. The eldest should have outgrown crying about not getting to play his toys five years ago. Yet, he cried until the youngest stopped crying. They would scream at each other in front of their window as if their lives depended on who could cry the loudest (which conveniently can be heard from my window).
Lastly, there's the family living directly above me. I swear on my life that I hear someone from that home humming some chant every day. No one else hears it. It's normally in the afternoon directly above my room. Maybe that's why. But, it drives me nuts. Thank God for the invention of earphones.
I think my neighbors from across the street have finally put that can to rest. I still hear them outside, but that poor can has finally left this world.
nyc life = committment.
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