Dear Folks in Apartment 216,
Hello. This is your friendly neighbor from downstairs. We’ve been living in close vertical proximity for about 6 weeks now, and although we have never met face to face I feel as if we’ve gotten to know each other.
For instance, I’ve learned that when you get home from work you thrash around in your closet for a really long time. I’ve learned that you have an army of little people in moon boots tromping through your living room for at least 5 hours a day. I’ve learned that every wall in your apartment is covered with thousands of pictures, each pounded into the walls with multiple nails (that is the only explanation for the incessant pounding to which I am trying to become accustomed).
On the flip side, you’ve learned that when you cannonball off your sofa onto the living room floor, causing my ceiling and light fixtures to rattle, my dogs bark. And bark. And bark. I’ve tried to explain to them that it’s just our neighbor practicing a diving routine, but they don’t care. You’ve also learned that while I may seem patient and tolerant I do occasionally lose my cool, like yesterday when I pounded on the ceiling using the leg my movers broke off of my piano. I don’t know if you were surprised, but my roomie and my dogs looked at me like I’d grown an extra head.
Neighbor, last week I noticed a couple drops of water coming from the light fixture in my bathroom. I didn’t really think much of it because it stopped right away. Big mistake!
This morning I groggily moved from the bed to the shower and flipped the light switch. Nothing. Damn! I thought. I’m going to have to shower in the dark. I looked up and realized that the entire globe was filled with dirty-looking water. Sick! The ceiling around the light fixture was visibly wet.
My mind raced as I hastily showered in the low-light conditions while staring fearfully at the light fixture. Obviously something disgusting had occurred in your bathroom, neighbor. My money is on a toilet overflow. So basically, there is a glass globe full of shit water precariously dangling from my ceiling.
After my shower as I frantically searched for my dead cell phone I began to wonder why you had not already alerted maintenance of this major problem. Was it a purposeful attack on me as payback for those three unapologetic raps on my ceiling? Or maybe there’s a reason you don’t want maintenance to enter your apartment. Perhaps it’s because you have an elaborate weed growing operation in the closet adjacent to your bathroom. Maybe the army of little people in moon boots are not on your lease…
Anyway, I found my phone, contacted the office, and my suspicion was confirmed. You did not report whatever problem is occurring in your bathroom. Thankfully, the gentleman who answered my call sensed my panic and assured me that maintenance would be here soon.
Neighbor, I’m wondering if you have a suggestion as to how to avoid certain bathroom disaster. I am very afraid that the shit water-filled globe is about to come crashing down, shattering and causing a major disaster. I feel as if I should put something soft on the floor under the globe to prevent any broken glass, however I’m not sure I am willing to sacrifice any of my textiles to raw sewage generated by someone I don’t even know.
I am now heading to the grocery store dear neighbor. I am hopeful that when I return home this issue will have been resolved. I even have a peace offering for you: if this situation can be fixed without me having to come in contact with whatever sludge is filling my light fixture, I will openly accept your couch cannonballing habit.
I’m hoping for the best, neighbor.
Sincerely,
Me
Table 110 
