Ode to “The People Upstairs”

My new home is a unique living arrangement. It’s a four-story, custom home and each level is a completely separate and fully equipped living space. Three families live here (including me). One family occupies the top two stories. Except that I park my car next to theirs in the driveway, I don’t really see or hear from them much. The middle level was recently rented out by a soon-to-be single-dad who has two children (not living with him full-time, but seemingly at their dad’s A LOT). And then there’s my sweet spot at the very bottom and back of the house.

I LOVE my new digs. The peace and serenity of living this close to nature is the reason I chose to live here. And, I’m accustomed to having people living upstairs from me after residing in a condo for 16 years. But that single dad is the most obnoxiously noisy person. I know he doesn’t mean to be and I’ve really had to take a hard look at why this bothers me so much (probably because I get woken out of a dead sleep from heavy shoes dropping over my head at midnight). However, there’s really NO buffer between his floor and my ceiling and he keeps the oddest hours (like moving furniture around at 10PM; seriously dude!). I’ve told him that I can hear EVERYTHING loudly and clearly (including the rendezvous he had the other night) and I’ve asked him (quite kindly I think) to respect lateness of hours, etc. But he seems totally clueless.

Some people lope and bound through their days, clip-clopping like Clydesdales hauling a heavy load. They move loudly through space and time and you can hear them a mile away, even though they aren’t saying a word. And when they do speak, they make no distinction between inside and outside voices; they simply yell what they have to say wherever they are, volleying cannon balls with booming voices.

So in honor of my new neighbor, I found this quite funny poem from Ogden Nash:

Photo Credit: A World of Poetry selected by Michael Rosen

The people upstairs all practice ballet.

Their living room is a bowling alley.

Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.

Their radio is louder than yours.

They celebrate weekends all the week.

When they take a shower, your ceilings leak.

They try to get their parties to mix

By supplying their guest with Pogo sticks,

And when their orgy at last abates,

They go to the bathroom on roller skates.

I might love the people upstairs wondrous

If instead of above us, they just lived under us.

Advertisements

12 thoughts on “Ode to “The People Upstairs”

  1. Ralph says:

    Very funny, Sahbinah. I enjoyed this post immensely 🙂

  2. Madhu says:

    Hilarious! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could swap places with him even for a day? 😀

  3. I once had a noisy Casanova who lived on the other side of my bedroom wall. It was embarrassing, irritating, and at times hilarious. I’m glad my kids never caught on to the activities next door!

  4. Lori says:

    My old neighbor Edwin was of the same sort….so glad we made that move from the condo now 9 years ago. I laughed hard at this post and it made me grateful for my hood in the woods! xo

  5. Funny poem… but I really hope the guy above learns how to be considerate sooner rather than later 🙂

  6. lifeofministermom says:

    Lol! I love this! Just last night our neighbors had me contemplating a new post regarding consideration, or rather the lack thereof. This is just what I needed! ;o)

    • I’m so glad that this made you laugh and resonated. It goes to show, we all live through similar experiences in life, we aren’t alone. It’s a big world, but a very small pond; the ripples reach all around. This experience has also made me dig deep to see where I may not be as considerate or thoughtful, where I’m not walking my talk. All the best to you;o)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s