kis·met \ˈkiz-ˌmet, -mət\ - noun; often capitalized
1. fate.
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"We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language.
That may be the measure of our lives." - Toni Morrison

"Growing up Southern is a privilege, really. It's more than where you're born; it's an idea and state of mind that seems imparted at birth. It's more than loving fried chicken, sweet tea, football, and country music. It’s being hospitable, devoted to front porches, magnolias, moon pies, coca-cola... and each other. We don't become Southern - we're born that way." - Unknown

31 March 2011

*stomp, stomp, stomp*

We named our upstairs neighbors the "McStompersons": Man- Stompy, Woman-Thumper, Kid-Clomper.
Thank goodness the baby can't walk yet.

We currently live in a ground-floor apartment in Provo. For the first month we lived here, the apartment directly upstairs was vacant. Oh, blessed silence. Then, once upon a time, a family moved in. We don't know them, nor their names, but we have dubbed them the "McStompersons". They stomp. Endlessly. Sometimes I think they run laps around their apartment for fun. Yet sometimes they mysteriously disappear for a day or two. I like to think that they are a part of a secret, underground organization characterized by their stompy nature. But seriously, they'll just disappear and only one McStomperson will be home for a pretty long period of time. We saw them once leaving their apartment, and they're actually kind of fat, so perhaps the come by the stomping honestly, but you'd think they would be more careful about stomping because they know they're fat. Nope. No such courtesy exists in my life. The thing that really gets me is that the parents just allow their kid to run around like a wild banshee (who sounds like he's the size of a large elephant). I understand that kids need to run and play, but if I was on a top floor with a kid with people living below us, a top priority would be to not annoy the downstairs neighbors.

I've yelled at them from my living room, but I don't think they heard me. I've contemplated going upstairs to ask them to walk more quietly, but I'm pretty sure that conversation wouldn't work out too well:
- "Hi. We live downstairs. Every time you walk around and let your kid run laps, it sounds like you're going to come right through the ceiling." -
You can see the flaws.
I usually get the urge to go up there when they're being particularly annoying, but I'm never in any kind of state to deal with them civilly at that point. I've also considered tapping the ceiling with one of Husband's golf clubs, but that just seems a bit too passive aggressive.

At least we're moving in less than a month!

3 comments:

A. Montes said...

It's times like this I'm glad I don't have anyone living above or below us. Scott and Kate Gibson have named the 6 single men living above them the "Elephants." They sound very similar to your McStompersons. That and they play their guitars and drum sets at 2 am. Kate has hit the ceiling with her broom and Scott has talked to them several times... but they just don't listen...

Karen said...

Huzzah for moving!

lotusgirl said...

At least they are getting lots of exercise with all that stomping. Good luck with the move.