Just call me Mrs. Roper.

Ever since the last upstairs neighbor moved out a few weeks ago, I've heard lots of noise from the new tenants. Last night was the final straw though - starting around 10pm, continuing until about 3am, there were tons of people laughing, shrieking, going to and from the balcony to chain-smoke and talk loudly. I was able to fall asleep around 11pm, but woke up at 12:30am and couldn't go back to sleep until I finally blared Ben Gibbard's voice in my ears.

This morning, I found cigarette butts and trash on my balcony, and a bunch more where that came from on the ground below our apartments. Call me naive but I just don't get how people can be that inconsiderate and oblivious to those around them.

On second thought, Mrs. Roper probably wouldn't have minded the absolute mayhem that occurred in the apartment above me last night. "Oh STAN-ley, they're just kids." So, just call me Mr. Roper.

Hmmm... I'm also incredibly cheap. Perhaps I should invest in a broomstick with which to pound on the ceiling, and also some leisure suits...