April 25, 2005   Sleep deprivation is not doing good things to me today.

Funny how you forget how nasty some things are, especially ones that plagued you for so long. Like insomnia. I suffered from it for many years and life was hell because of it, but then magical wellbutrin came along and insomnia was a thing of the past. Gone were nights of waiting hours to fall asleep, tossing and turning, incessent waking, and exhausted, nightmare days of sleep deprivation.

But sleep deprivation is back with vengence, thanks to the rude people who moved in upstairs and their screaming, crying, foot stomping child. It's odd that something as seemingly trivial as noisy neighbors could disrupt life so much, but when a spoiled, screaming child lives just a few feet above you, life, and what sanity you had, quickly descends into hell.

Like today. I was up late working and, just as I went to bed at 6am, the beast upstairs awoke. I realize that when you stay up til dawn, you can't expect the world to remain silent for the next 8 hours while you get your beauty rest, but I think you can at least expect people who live in an apartment not to let their kid incessently bounce a basketball off the floor and walls at 6am.

The ball bouncing is a common event that drives me nuts, but it's really bad when you're trying to sleep. THUD!-Thud-thudthudthud goes the ball, over and over, until I want to scream. Today I nearly did. I layed in bed, angrily staring at the ceiling, wondering what these people are thinking. This is an apartment building, they have neighbors. Doesn't the noise factor occur to them? Obviously it doesn't, but once I get a gun and start blasting through the ceiling, maybe they'll catch on.

Like I said, sleep deprivation is not doing good things. I am drained, I'm angry, and I'm sick to fucking death of the noise. It's bad enough that the kid screams all the time, but then there's the other ruckus. Like the fact that they let the kid play with pots and pans on the kitchen floor. Harmless activity? Not if you live below it. Try listening to pans claning for an hour and see how you like it.

I could go on, because this is just the tip of the noisy iceburg - there's the parents yelling over the top of the screaming kid, the fact that 3 people living in one apartment somehow manage to take 80 baths a day and use all the hot water, their attempts to play the violin, loud music, etc - but the bottom line is... Rude neighbors suck. Parents who don't realize that their screaming child is anything but cute suck. And we're moving, asap.

Until then, we can only pray my nerves hold out and that I don't go postal or gouge my eardrums out with an ice pick. But I don't know if there's any hope. The little beast just started one of its screaming tantrums. Just shoot me now.

HOME  |  ARCHIVES