You’ll recall that on Day 20 I rearranged my bedroom furniture.
That decision has had consequences.
First of all, it means I’m closer to the paper-thin wall I share with my cray cray neighbours.
At around 3:45 a.m. today, I was roused from my sleep by yelling. I managed to ascertain that the girlfriend was upset her boyfriend doesn’t love her anymore, and her life is now not worth living…or something. The girlfriend’s voice is shrill and loud, so I really only picked up her side of the story. The boyfriend’s retorts only sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown (wah wah wah).
A few moments later I felt creepy for eavesdropping (in my defence, it’s not like I had a choice), so I found some ear plugs and went back to sleep.
An hour later, I was once again pulled from my slumber, this time by raucous make-up sex. The ear plugs were useless.
So I listened to my audiobook of The Big Short to drown it out, and fell back asleep. Until my alarm went, I dreamed about JP Morgan, Goldman Sachs and collateralized debt obligations.
My situation is pretty pathetic — I acknowledge that. But the girl next door’s situation is even more pathetic. I mean, the yelling-fucking/yelling-fucking/yelling-fucking cycle may be fun for a while, but after a few years of that insanity isn’t it just enough?
Now on to the second consequence of my furniture rearrangement:
I moved my dresser, which weighs as much as I do, to its new spot in a really ungraceful manner. Somehow the structural integrity of the piece was compromised in the process (not that it had much structural integrity to begin with, being from IKEA and all).
This morning, as I was enjoying my coffee and watching the Cosby Show, I heard a giant CRASH come from the other room.
The dresser toppled over, smushing the shade on my bedside lamp and strewing clothing, jewelry and other detritus around my room.
My life is awesome. Just awesome.