Thank your lucky stars you don’t live in a ground floor apartment, as I do, under a neighbor who treads like an elephant and every night holds a bellowing, 1:00 a.m. phone conversation with someone who is evidently hard-of-hearing — an elderly relative, maybe, who lives in a time zone halfway round the world.
Further, he seems to find it necessary to rearrange all the furniture in his apartment at midnight and again at 8:00 a.m., daily. There seems to be a frantic urgency involved, judging by the rapid dragging and hurling. I’m beginning to suspect he leads a secret double life with, perhaps, two wives who are unaware of each other and who work opposite shifts. Each wife has decorated the apartment to her taste, so he must restore its previous appearance before each arrives home.