The Russian Terrorist in My Brain

I have an incredibly overactive imagination that is only a problem when it skews toward the negative. I’m a daydreamer and I’ll just sit staring off into the distance while my mind makes movies for me to watch. A perfect example of this happened at about 4:30 a.m. today. As you might imagine, this is not a time that I am normally awake, however, we have neighbors who decided to become a nuisance about two weeks ago. Last night was the 6th time, on a week night, they woke us up somewhere after 3 a.m. (conveniently after bar close…) with a herd of people stomping and speaking hurriedly while heading down the hallway. They then proceed to do the same in their apartment which is right next to ours.

Normally I wouldn’t even know someone lived there. Our building is decently sound-proof which means they have to be shouting for me to hear them so well. The real kicker is when the music starts up. This isn’t your normal party after bar close music–this is bizarre, trippy, russian sounding music blasting through the walls.

I’ve had noisy, partying neighbors before, but these people take it to such a strange level. They do this thing every time where they stop making noise for nearly an hour, we fall back asleep, and then the music begins blasting again for just one or two songs. Last night, it was really rough, and Bryce actually went and knocked on their door to ask them to keep it down. He knocked three times with no answer, but the noise stopped after that.

They seemed like really nice, normal people. They have a cute dog and we always make small talk. When this bizarre partying started we could not figure out what was going on. Still can’t, it’s just the weirdest behavior and crazy music, made crazier by the fact that we are always half asleep as it blasts us awake.

My wishful thinking tells me that knocking on their door will be what keeps them from doing this again. My life experience tells me otherwise. Bryce says they are blasting the music to cover up some (inappropriate) sounds.

My imagination is a whole other ball game. For a half an hour it ran wild with a tale of terrorists hatching a plan in their Milwaukee loft. They blast the music at night to cover the sounds of their work and now they know we’re on to them.

The next morning I see the curly-haired girl out to walk her dog and she will know I’ve figured them out. “Sick ’em!”, she shouts to her dog, as I scoop up Beatrix and both the girl and dog come flying at me. I fight back best I can while holding my scared pup then race back to my apartment. The door slams in her face, but the rabid dog is still attached to my ankle, clamping down and tearing at my Achilles tendon. I secure Beatrix away from the dog, manage to detach it from my ankle and throw it into Beatrix’s kennel. I scramble for my phone and dial 911 while barricading the door and checking Bea for injuries. I slump onto the couch and wrap up my own injuries. I sit in fear, wondering how the police will get passed all the locked doors of my secure building in enough time to stop her from getting in…

 

So that’s why I didn’t sleep well last night. My brain thinks my neighbors are Russian terrorists. Happy Monday!

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