Turns out, the neighbour note-leaving saga might not be completely over. Or, a new one has just begun.
This is my life.
As you may recall, I have had some, um, issues with my neighbour. If you need a refresher or are new to this saga, you can read about it in My neighbour (and my vacuum) can suck it! and My crazy neighbour leaves her last note…..because I killed her. Just kidding. But seriously, it’s an EPIC conclusion.
For the record, yes, I (obviously, jokingly, no-way-in-hell seriously) implied that I would have my neighbour evicted because her apology letter was technically one more note under my door after my landlord said he’ll evict her if she leaves one more note. I wasn’t being serious. Some people have asked me if I actually had her evicted. These people are idiots (don’t worry, I’m not talking about you).
But I will have you know, it’s been downright eerily quiet in my humble abode since my neighbour was put in her place. Almost too quiet. I didn’t realize how used to the regular banging throughout the day I had gotten. Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.
Since I last shared what I thought was the end of the saga with you, a couple of weird things related to said saga have happened.
1. I meet my Bizarro World doppelgänger
A few days after the saga “ended,” I was standing outside my building waiting for my friend to pick me up. While I waited, a car pulled up and out came a young woman my age and her mother. We exchanged pleasantries and they went into the building. I noted that she went down the stairs, meaning she is on the same floor as my neighbour below me, and thus, could very well be said neighbour, since I don’t actually know what she looks like.
A minute later, the young woman emerged back outside and called to me:
“Excuse me. You live in this building, right?”
“Yes I do….”
“I thought so. I just wanted to let you know, I’m not the person who lives under you.”
Huh? How do you know which apartment I’m in? How do you know I have issues with the person living under me? So many questions swirled through my head, until she said:
“I’m the person who lives NEXT TO the woman who lives under you.”
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Yesssssssssssssss. It didn’t even occur to me that I wasn’t the only one suffering at the hands of the ceiling-banger/note-leaver!
She went on to explain that she also regularly gets notes under her door for being too “loud” in the middle of the day, and that instead of banging on the wall like she does on her ceiling to me, the neighbour actually talks to her THROUGH the wall. “I can hear you, you know…” Eeeeeek.
Also, she described the neighbour as “built.” Shit.
Turns out, my new comrade had complained to the landlord about the antics of our mutual neighbour one week before I complained. In addition to what my landlord had told me about prior issues, my situation must have been his breaking point. I told her what he told me about “one more note” and encouraged her to assume the same applies to her.
I still don’t know how she knew which apartment I lived in. I’m just going to assume she’s been introducing herself that way to everyone she meets in the building until she found me.
2. The opposite of leaving a note–stealing a note
You might remember that I placed the following note on my door almost a year ago after I slipped on a flyer on my floor and fell on my ass:
It has been up for almost a year (mostly as an inside joke to myself, and partly due to laziness) since the incident. You can see the visual re-enactment of said fall in Proof that mail, and the world, is out to get me.
Also, I get the irony that I complain about the notes that are left for me, but have no problem leaving them for other people. I’m a complicated woman.
I came home from work one day last week, and it was gone. Vanished.
1. My landlord: Perhaps, in a building where an older gentleman smokes outside shirtless on a regular basis and another older gentleman sits and plays the ukulele on a plastic chair at the entrance every day, he thought my note was “de-classing” the joint. But he’s pretty laid back; after all, my lease was hand-written, barely legibly, on-the-spot on a crumbled, ripped piece of paper he pulled out of his pocket. I doubt he would take issue with my perfect penmanship on a perfectly cut piece of crisp, white paper. Plus, other tenants have those hideous “Welcome” signs.
2. My neighbour across the hall: This is another unlikely scenario in which I imagine that after a year, this neighbour has gotten fed up with looking at the note across the hall every day and snatched it.
3. Me: I keep questioning myself and trying to remember if I had in fact taken it off. I was planning on doing it soon, but I don’t remember actually doing it. I checked the place I keep such life souvenirs because I know I wouldn’t have thrown it out (in the event I become famous but then bankrupt and need to auction off items of worth, of course), but it’s not there.
4. Drunken hooligans: Maybe a group of party people thought it would be funny to rip the sign off on their way out to the bar. But, the note was not hastily or sloppily taken down, as there is no remnants of tape on my door. It was a carefully planned job not done on a whim.
5. The Mysterpranker or the Impostermysterpranker (if they aren’t one in the same): This is just too complicated to explain. Read Pranks! And an unsolved mystery…A mysterprank! and Update: The mysterprank goes global. FYI, both mysteries remain unsolved.
Since all of the above scenarios are highly unlikely, I have no choice but to assume it was…
6. My neighbour who lives below me: “Bitch tells me I can’t LEAVE any more notes, then I’ll just STEAL notes! That’ll show her!”
So I put up a new note:
That’s right. How do you like me now?!
I’ll come clean.
My dead friend didn’t write the note. And I don’t have a dead friend. I also didn’t actually leave that note up. I just wrote it for the purposes of this blog post, slapped it on the door, took a picture, then ripped it right off before the neighbours thought I was weird or something.
But wouldn’t that be AWESOME?
No, you say? Diabolical, psychotic, and clinically insane, you say? Oh.
I’ll just put it with the rest of my life souvenirs, like the fortune from a fortune cookie that reads, “You and your wife will be happy in life together.”