City Paper is not for tourists
Our mouse has since disappeared, so, thanks! And since we’ve detected no rotting corpse smell emanating from beneath our dishwasher, we’d like to think that the little critter’s just moved on, very much alive, from our subterranean dwelling. Hey, I don’t want to live in my basement anymore, either.
But living underground isn’t all rodent-free bliss. Introducing a new installment in our Basement Livin’ series:
Upstairs Neighbors, What Is Going On Up There?
Upstairs neighbors, I generally accept sharing my living situation with you. After all, it is I who am the troll dwelling beneath your bridge. I have come to terms with the fact that I can hear your movements and conversations at a volume that often makes me wonder if you are actually inside my basement apartment. I bear this burden silently.
However, I’d really like to know what the fuck you are doing. You certainly drop a lot of things! You also drag a lot of furniture around in what I suspect is your kitchen, seemingly without purpose. Every Sunday morning, it appears that you host a regularly scheduled game of hockey on what, to you, is merely a floor (I call this “my ceiling”).
I have grown accustomed to these sounds. Yesterday, however, I heard you—and I’m guessing here—unspool an entire roll of duct tape above my bedroom over the course of about a half an hour before throwing two heavy objects (or one heavy object, twice?) into the space above my bathroom. I’m pretty sure your bathroom is up there, too.
Upstairs neighbors, what is going on up there?
Photo by the illustrious untitled 13.