I Am Tired of Advocating For Myself.
I finally worked up the courage to tell my upstairs neighbor that she had been waking me up with the furniture she drags across the floor in the middle of the night—right over my head.
At first, I actually decided to keep my mouth shut. I had just moved in, and I didn’t want any trouble with anyone. In fact, the last thing I wanted was a neighbor getting so angry about my polite confrontation, that they intentionally make my life a living hell. So, after the first couple of incidents, I ordered a new set of earplugs on Amazon.
But later that week, when making conversation with the building manager, I casually asked who lives above me, just in case I needed to approach them one day. When she asked why, I opened up about the noise that was waking me each night.
We have quiet hours, so the manager informed my neighbor about my complaint, and it stopped for a while. Apparently, she was painting late at night with a rolling chair, and had remedied the situation by placing a rug underneath so it wouldn’t make noise. Considering that I had almost kept my mouth shut, and spent money on earplugs that may not even work, or that would make my ears uncomfortable—the discomfort of speaking up was well worth it.
But last night it happened again. And this time, I had trouble getting back to sleep. So this morning, after much deliberation, I decided to say something.
I knocked on her door, and that is when I met my neighbor for the first time. I could instantly tell that she was on guard. We were both nervous. I calmly introduced myself as her downstairs neighbor, and told her that I just wanted to let her know that there is a piece of furniture she rolls across the floor that woke me up last night.
At first she said she didn’t know what I’m talking about. But when I brought up the exact time it happened (2:30am), and previous late-night instances that had already been addressed—she apologized, and told me it wasn’t intentional.
I said, no worries. I was friendly about it. Before leaving, I introduced myself again and told her to let me know if she needs anything, and that I hope she enjoys herself.
I am still nervous about it as I have mostly had terrible experiences confronting neighbors about disturbance. They have been situations where we start out friendly. They seem accommodating and act like they care, but they never stop the noise, or in some cases—the weed smoking that seeps into my bedroom vents.
Even if it’s against the rules.
When I lived in Berlin, my downstairs neighbor loved blasting music on his surround-sound system. He was a middle-aged gay German man who owned his flat, had a fancy sports car parked out front, and who was ‘living his best life’ in one of the nicest parts of the city. He had always been friendly towards me and my roommate, and for most of my time living there, we were on good terms.