we recieved a note under our door this morning reading
"please stop yelling. we are trying to sleep."
this note seems very peculiar in light of the fact that we were all asleep by 10:30 at the latest. although i have been known to talk in my sleep, i think that the note writers had the wrong door, and it was not me yelling to the world in my dream. my guess is the culprits are the boys who live below us.
andrea and i live in the party block of northwestern university's off campus housing. during the warmer times of year, it is not uncommon for her to be hearing a party coming from the back alley and me to hear a separate one originating in our front courtyard. we've had our fair share of neighbors who, if not throwing the party, most definatelly participated.
ahhhh...who can forget dave and james? you can easily forget which is which, but as a collective unit, they are pretty memorable. oh, the time we walked out our door to see them peeing. oh yes, and the time dave or james answered their door in just their underwear. and the time we ran into them at the bar celebrating their 19th birthday with tequila shots. but then, to our dismay, out moved dave and james, and in moved "frat boy duo". their names were probably something like todd or brent, but, ultimately, who cares?
i thought the duo was so nice and friendly when they came upstairs and introduced themselves. we'd lived there for 3 years, and not a soul had ventured to our door to be neighborly. they simply said "hey, i'm brad and this is chad. we just moved in downstairs and wanted to say hello. oh yeah, and if we're ever too loud, just let us know."
IF they are ever too loud? how about amending that statement, to read "when we are always loud and obnoxious, screaming and yelling and making noises like we are throwing gigantic pieces of furniture across the apartment, please don't call the police and just let us know."
sure boys, we'll let you know. or rather, someone else will let us know by leaving a note saying that WE are the loud ones.
