Quiet Enjoyment

It is a well-established fact that I have little tolerance for noise pollution.  Barking dogs, mewing cats, screeching children, jiggy-with-it neighbors, chewing-gum champers, and people who sing in my air space drain my patience.  But what always takes the prize, cake, and biscuit is the noise – whatever it is – that disturbs my sleep.  Like the 8 a.m. under-the-window weed-whacker.  

Apartments are unfriendly places for the audio-sensitive.  Too many pets and people crammed too close together, separated only by paper-thin walls.  It is a given that there will be disturbances; but when management – the monthly bank account sucker – is responsible for them it begs a question….

When one signs a lease, one agrees to abide by the rules of Quiet Enjoyment.  Usually, whether it is expressly stated, this is accepted to mean that one must keep the noise to a minimum after ten p.m.  What is never expressly stated, however, is when, exactly, quiet enjoyment hours end.   The result of which is that, though sundown was not the cue for silence, sun-up is the cue for all manner of unfettered aural activity.

Someone must be punished.

I blame “the man.”  See, “the man” works a 9 to 5 job.  “The man” gets up at 6 or 7 and is out of the house by 8.  Thus, “the man” has convinced the other men, also early to work, that everyone is awake and running around fully clothed and coifed a mere eight hours after midnight.  So thinking, the men collectively begin the tribal chant of industrial life at an hour unmistakably designed by God for sleeping.  

They are all going to hell.

That’s right.  Hell.

Now, you might think that eternal hellfire and damnation would be punishment enough to please me, but, see, I just don’t have that kind of patience.  I mean, by the time Mr. Morning Weed-Whacker feels the first warm tickle, another anonymous Joe will have taken his place in making some ungodly ante meridiem noise.  As stated in BeelzeBubba’s Evil-Doer Replacement Policy, Section 69, Article 42.   And so, rather than waiting for the retribution of a vengeful God who never intended anyone to see his sun rise, I propose another means of ridding the planet of inconsiderate clods brainwashed by “the man.”  Unfortunately, my proposal pre-supposes the availability of several X-Men and a few mafia dons, none of whom have returned my calls.

So, while I continue working on a solution that is satisfactorily annihilitic, I suggest that you write your congressman – or my landlord – and demand an addendum to Quiet Enjoyment clauses everywhere.  I’ll be quiet after 10 p.m. for you, if you’ll be quiet until 10 a.m. for me.  Deal?