Wake Up Little Suzie

The gods do not want me to sleep.

At 6am I heard rapping. Not Queen Latifah or Tupac. No, like a knocking. Incessant. Then quiet. Incessant. Then quiet. Why on earth would someone be knocking at 6am? We have an intercom system. Knocking is not required in this building.

You see, I live in apartment #1 which is located next to the front door of the 8 unit building. For the most part, this building is very quiet. . . peaceful even. During the first days of living here, my guest, Dumpling, remarked, "Does anyone live here?"

Indeed, they do. Actually, there is a very frail looking fella who lives directly above me. He's ghost-like with his long black hair (think the girl from The Ring) and waifish. I think a strong gust of wind could carry him away, he's so tiny. But he makes loud noise. He plays the electric guitar. And, he doesn't generally follow the "quiet hours" rule. No loud music/tv/parties between 9pm and 9am. I actually like this rule and as the goodie girl with a nervous compulsion to not upset anyone, I stick to it. Last night he was rocking out until after 11. At least he is good.

But I digress.

The incessant rapping. I looked out all my windows but could not discover the culprit. I laid in bed thinking, "Maybe it is a special kind of bird only known to the Pacific Northwest? Like some sort of woodpecker?" Then I thought, "Maybe it is just the building settling? It IS crooked afterall. Ohdeargod, what if the house collapses?!"

Overdramatize much? Of course! I seriously did picture the apartment building collapsing as I and my cats slept soundly in the wee small hours of the morning before thoughts of tea and blogging had creeped into my head. I have an overactive imagination, what can I say. But then I fell asleep and woke up to quiet. Ah, sweet, blissful quiet.

There is one perk to living in a town where you only know a handful of people and only three of them actually know where your apartment is. No unexpected visitors. That is, until you meet your neighbor in the hallway and later realize you might have just introduced yourself to the Chatty Cathy of the building. Sitting in my pjs at 2pm on a Monday, there was a knocking at my door (not to be confused with a rapping). My neighbor was stopping by to give me some contacts she knew of in event planning. Really, that was incredibly nice of her. But as we stood there chatting in the doorway, me in my pjs, braless and with bedhead, I realized something a bit creepy about her. She hardly blinks! Usually I would invite a visitor in, ask them if they want anything to drink, make them comfortable. . .but I wasn't "fit" for company AND her blinkless stare was intense. Woman! Blink!

Am I living in some weird kaleidoscope of horror movies?

On second thought, don't answer that.