Friday, April 02, 2004
Hounded
Our downstairs neighbors appear to have purchased a dog. Now, ordinarily this is just the sort of building-rule-flouting behavior that I would find inoffensive or even cute. Who doesn’t love the cuddly puppies, right? But in this case, the hound (who is, by the way, far more “of the Baskervilles” than “Huckleberry”) comes after such a long string of passive-aggressive breaches of all the dictates of politeness and common sense that it’s hard to see as anything but a four-legged act of war.
I guess it all started with the trash. A few days after their arrival in our building, our lovely neighbors left an enormous pile of trash outside the back door of their apartment on the common staircase we all share. We’re talking scraps of aborted meals, bits of broken furniture, used condoms, the whole bit. When the bag the trash was in burst, due to weeks of being exposed to rain, sleet, hail, and, oh yes, vermin, they did not see this as a clue to remove the trash, but rather to ensconce it in a plastic tub, where it remains to this day, some ten months later. I’m not completely sure what they’re saving it for, but if there’s a demand for bitchy girls’ used dental floss on E-bay, I’m sure I don’t know about it.
There’s also the little matter of the laundry. There’s a wad of my neighbors’ damp plus-size lingerie that appears to have taken up permanent residence in the sole washing machine for our building. It’s been over two weeks now, and I believe we’re approaching the mold threshold, yet there’s been no movement on removal. These laundry blockades have become a monthly tradition for my neighbors, along with inviting men over for loud angry-sounding sex in the living room and occasionally leaving the building’s front door wide open. They’re not nice, but hey, at least they’re consistent.
So we’re debating what to do about the dog. We’re sort of hoping that they’re just dogsitting, and that it will all be over within a few days, but given our history, I would not be surprised if they’re fashioning little sausage effigies of me and training the damn thing to go for the groin. We’ll take a “wait and see” attitude, and make sure the first aid kit is at the ready.
Our downstairs neighbors appear to have purchased a dog. Now, ordinarily this is just the sort of building-rule-flouting behavior that I would find inoffensive or even cute. Who doesn’t love the cuddly puppies, right? But in this case, the hound (who is, by the way, far more “of the Baskervilles” than “Huckleberry”) comes after such a long string of passive-aggressive breaches of all the dictates of politeness and common sense that it’s hard to see as anything but a four-legged act of war.
I guess it all started with the trash. A few days after their arrival in our building, our lovely neighbors left an enormous pile of trash outside the back door of their apartment on the common staircase we all share. We’re talking scraps of aborted meals, bits of broken furniture, used condoms, the whole bit. When the bag the trash was in burst, due to weeks of being exposed to rain, sleet, hail, and, oh yes, vermin, they did not see this as a clue to remove the trash, but rather to ensconce it in a plastic tub, where it remains to this day, some ten months later. I’m not completely sure what they’re saving it for, but if there’s a demand for bitchy girls’ used dental floss on E-bay, I’m sure I don’t know about it.
There’s also the little matter of the laundry. There’s a wad of my neighbors’ damp plus-size lingerie that appears to have taken up permanent residence in the sole washing machine for our building. It’s been over two weeks now, and I believe we’re approaching the mold threshold, yet there’s been no movement on removal. These laundry blockades have become a monthly tradition for my neighbors, along with inviting men over for loud angry-sounding sex in the living room and occasionally leaving the building’s front door wide open. They’re not nice, but hey, at least they’re consistent.
So we’re debating what to do about the dog. We’re sort of hoping that they’re just dogsitting, and that it will all be over within a few days, but given our history, I would not be surprised if they’re fashioning little sausage effigies of me and training the damn thing to go for the groin. We’ll take a “wait and see” attitude, and make sure the first aid kit is at the ready.
