my good night's sleep's keeping me up nights

Mere weeks ago, my life changed for the better. Napoleon & Pedro moved out. That's right, the man & I somehow managed to outlive the uber-loud hipsters. I even helped hold doors open for them, 'cause that's just who I am.

The following week, NYC's Access-A-Ride drivers went on strike. What could that possibly mean for me? Well, as some of you know, across the street from our apartment is an adult day-care center, which I lovingly refer to as "the tard farm." (Letters of hate may be sent directly to me. I don't care. I'm not censoring myself & you know I'm not a hatah. It just sounds funny.) Every weekday morning, beginning as early as 6-ish, buses line up to drop people off for the day. Now, apparently, none of the bus companies, including the Access-A-Ride people, have ever heard of walkie-talkies or cell phones. So every morning when the buses pull up across the street, they announce their arrival by laying on their horns, repeating as many times as necessary. They just don't stop. Ever.

All of a sudden, I found myself without nighttime/early morning disturbances -- well, except for the cat, but he's another story entirely. He still gets up between 5:30 & 7:30 to eat, drink & go potty, but now, I'm able to go back to sleep after filling his bowl & turning on his water & nightlight.

The honking has stopped, or at least it's not happening at the crack of shut-the-hell-up anymore. And with Napoleon & the President gone, there's no more door creaking & slamming next to our bedroom in the middle of the night. No more obscene-hours-new-album-cranking.

It's like heaven.

But the silence has shattered. The landlord & his mistress have begun fixing the place up for the next potential tenant, which wouldn't be nearly so loud without their toddler in tow. God only knows what they're doing across the hall for the 4+ hours they're here everyday, but it's driving me nuts. The love-child runs up & down the railroad, just like our cat does, only he weighs at least 20 pounds more than the kitty & runs on his heels. Oh & he's not our cat, who's adorable some of the time he does these laps. When he's not pounding his way up & down the apartment, he's wailing. Have I mentioned our walls are paper-thin?



Then a couple of days ago, a chill made its way up my spine when I mentioned to the man, "Man, I hope he's not getting it ready for them to move in. I don't think I can take living next door to a toddler. Since I brought that terror up, I haven't been able to sleep. I lie down and bolt back upright, sweating & shaking with the fear of the possible menace that is my landlord's love-toddler, throwing temper tantrums in such close proximity. I mean, I can't even take a few hours of that. What would I do if that's what I came home to everyday? If every night were filled with terrible twos? There are reasons we don't have children, people, and this is one of them. We're selfish for wanting a relaxing, quiet space.

So, now I beg of you. We need good, respectful, infant- & toddler-free tenants to move in next door. He's using a broker for the situation & asking a butt-load for Greenpoint, but I'm begging. If you or someone you love is looking for a fabulous new apartment, won't you please? Won't you please? Please, won't you be my neighbor?