So as you know (or not, depending on how long you’ve been reading) I had some Stormtroopers who used to live upstairs.
They were loud and stompy folk.
The Stormtroopers had cats. Cats who, I should have mentioned, were ALSO Stormtroopers. And who were kind of zoomy. As in, they would go tearing across their floor/my ceiling in random, speedy, and thumptastic fashion.
My cat LOVED the Stormtroopers AND their cats. She’s … simple … and the noises coming from overhead fascinated her. When the cats went on one of their zoom cycles, she would stare at the ceiling in wonder and amazement. (Of course, to be fair, she sometimes stares at the WALL in wonder and amazement for 15 minute stretches, but whatever.)
I did not love the Stormtroopers, though I will admit that I had a soft spot for the loony, zoomy cats. I did not love the Stormtrooper tendency to be stomping about at 2 am – from the kitchen to the living room and back. (I suspect one of them was a heavy footed, pacing insomniac). I did not love their interior decorating bent, which caused them to rearrange furniture weekly. I did not love their going outside every two hours to have phone calls on the balcony.
I was happy to see the Stormtroopers leave.
In the absence of Stormtroopers upstairs, there is quiet.
And in the quiet, other things are revealed.
Things that the Stormtroopers made me blissfully unaware of.
Such as this: The DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR.
I should mention here that I’m not a light sleeper. For instance, my car is usually parked below my bedroom windows. When said car was broken into? I NEVER HEARD THE ALARM. So when I tell you that the Stormtroopers would wake me out of a dead sleep? It should give you an indication of the level of Whoa, Nelly, that’s LOUD that was going on up there.
And when I tell you that downstairs neighbor guy’s snoring woke me up – again, out of a dead sleep – it should give you an indication of the craziness of the snoring.
Now, I will say this: I’ve lived with people who snore. I’ve lived with people who snore LOUDLY. I myself occasionally snore, albeit in the delicate and ladylike fashion with which I do all things*.
However, this? This is MAD snoring. It makes me think there must be some kind of medical condition associated with it, that’s how bad it is. This guy is like a superhero who has sonic snoring as his power.
And the worst thing? Is that once I start hearing it, I can’t UNHEAR it. I turn on my white noise machine and under the sounds of a gently babbling brook, I hear:
“Scnnhhhuurk!” babble babble splash tweet babble “Scnnhhhuurk!”
Choosing to live with a snorer is one thing. You accept the snoring. The snoring is part of the person with whom you've decided to make a life. Having a snorer for a neighbor is an arbitrary and kind of evil thing. I didn’t check the “wake me up with all your snores-o” box on my lease.
I am trying to love my neighbor.
And I never thought I’d say this, but I miss my Stormtroopers.
*HAHAHAHAH I’m so FUNNY!