I was in a state of blissful happiness in the months after I bought my condo. It was cute, charming and MINE. All MINE! It was a thrill to come home each evening. I dreamed of throwing parties and having friends over – things my last apartment was just too small to even consider doing.
Then, after four months of elation, I returned home on New Years Day after a weekend of skiing with my friend Kaha who was visiting from out of state. I heard hammering coming from another unit the night before, and assumed my next-door neighbor who moved in a month behind me was hanging some new artwork. The next morning before 9:00am I awoke to strains of too loud music. At first I thought it was some bozo from the building next door and shot out of bed to investigate. To my surprise, it was coming from directly below me – and I remembered that the unit below me had sold and the woman was moving in this week.
All tousseled and rumpled from an interrupted sleep, I made my way downstairs to break the news to my new neighbor that her music level was too loud for this building. (not to mention too early) She was going to have to adjust, but at least she would know from the start.
She seemed like a dear sweet lady, invited me in coffee and everything, but I explained that I had company upstairs. Let’s call her Maca. She turned the music down and I thought all was well.
Well it wasn’t. She continued with her loud music and punctuated it with banging doors – sometimes one aggressive bang after another – other times, spurts of one bang per minute for an hour and a half. The music is loud enough to vibrate my floors and chairs and to sound as if I have my own stereo cranked in my own unit. It’s loud enough to hear each word clearly and sing along if I know the words.
She came up to third floor one day, took everyone’s welcome mat and threw them in the back stairwell. Another day, she brought her umbrella with her and proceeded to poke holes in the hallways walls. When one of my neighbors caught her in the act, and asked what she was doing, Maca looked stunned and said, “Oh, I didn’t know anybody was home.” With that, she retreated to her own unit.
Oh, well, that explains it. The music and banging continued. Sometimes I could hear her stomping on her floor. Another time, banging on her ceiling (my floor) moving from one end of the living room to the other. It lasted for an hour. My friend Kaha heard it all through my cell phone!
Every effort to reason with her was futile. We – somebody – learned that Maca has bi-polar disorder, so that makes this even more difficult. She’s someone with whom you can’t reason.
She accused others in the building of sneaking into her apartment and stealing her spoons. Or of coming in and messing things up.
At this point, I no longer loved my new home. My home was no longer a refuge but a place of torment. I dreaded walking into the building because I knew I would have to have my guard up and that is something one should be free of when in their own home.
I tried to pass a quiet hours rule through the homeowners association. It failed. So I took my next recourse. I called the local police district’s non-emergency number to report noise disturbances. One, when a police man was final able to confront her, he returned to my door to tell me that Maca is indeed crazy and he reminded me that the only way to win this battle is to sign a complaint against her – yet he didn’t offer a complaint for me to sign.
The next morning, she was by my car when I left for work and she threatened me. Saying that I had better watch it.
This is when my friends and family started telling me to leave it alone. That she might do something crazy.
This is so frustrating. I have a right to live in my home in peace. I will stand up for my rights. I don’t particularly care if she is crazy or not. If she is not capable of living on her own like a reasonable person, then she should be put someplace where she doesn’t infringe on other peoples rights.
Yesterday, I stayed home to work from my house. She started her music at 7:30 am. By noon, it was so loud that I called her and asked her to turn it down, saying that if she didn’t do so within 20 minutes, that I would report her for disturbing the peace. So I did. The cops came out, heard her music from my apartment and went to talk to her. She wouldn’t answer the door, and the last I heard, they took her away in handcuffs.
I’m sure she wasn’t arrested for the music, but for resisting the officers. When I told a co-worker, she said she’s worried about what will happen to ME! She’s scared for me and says that I shouldn’t do this to provoke Maca because we don’t know what she might do.
Ridiculous!!! I am well within my rights to want a peaceful home. Maca is preventing me from living peacefully. Am I supposed to just roll over and take it because of what she might do? If that is how America works now we’re in for a hell of a lot of trouble!!!
This sounds like those parents who can’t control their kids and then complain when other people comment on their lousy brats! If you can’t behave – someone better show you how. And don’t be surprised when they do.
If we let everyone violate all our rights, we shouldn’t be surprised when we have no rights left.
I WILL stand up for myself. And I’ll even pretend that it’s in the interest of getting Maca help. In my opinion, she’s not fit for society. She could just as easily take her dang medication and be pleasant to live with… but she chooses not to and in doing so she impacts my life. Well, I’m going to impact her right back!