joys of apartment living

I remember feeling crusty and confused as it was a good hour and a half before my usual wake up time. As I clumsily rearranged myself, giving Mitchell a shove for good measure, I blearily wondered what had called me from my slumber at such an ungodly hour. It was as this thought stumbled around in my sleep-dulled mind that I began to recognize exactly what it was that had disturbed me. Was it a confused and nightmare frightened child, seeking sanctuary in her parents' bed? Nope. The ridiculously goofy shi tzu that frequently requires bathroom breaks at inappropriate hours? Not today. Could it have been my spouse whose snores often rival the roar of a 747 landing in the living room? It was not. As I lay peering bitterly at the lime-green neon numbers of my bedside alarm, it suddenly became clear. My upstairs neighbor, a kindly man in his 50s, was getting his freak on and quite vigorously at that. Listen with me. Bed springs squeaking away at a rate I haven't heard in...well, frankly, since my single days. Oh and wonderful, this is where the banging of the headboard against the wall is introduced. And finally a chorus of gutteral utterings now joins the fray, eventually crescendoing into a bevy of inarticulate sounds that I continue to try to eliminate from my memory. Please understand, that may sharing of this event isn't a criticism against such behavior. It is simply a wish that I had not been able to share it with them.