We share a wall with the Neighbours From Hell.
Rude, inconsiderate, completely lacking in common courtesy, gross, loud, burden on society… just imagine all the worst qualities in a human being and then multiply it by 5 of them. Just when I think I’ve experienced the lowest depths they can sink to, they surprise me yet again.
It is very, very hard not to wish very, very bad things to befall them (and their little dog too). When the party goes on ’til 3 o’ clock on a Thursday morning, it is hard not to plot their combined demise. When I have to walk our dog at midnight because I can’t let him out into our yard, it is hard not no invoke the names of the Elder Gods. When I’m retching from the 7th hour of constant pumping bass, it is hard not to pray for a meteorite strike. Some days, I don’t care if whatever will stop them will stop me too, as long as I get to watch them go out first.
We’ve spoken to them, we’ve called the cops, we’ve called the City, we’ve contacted the condo board multiple times. Nothing makes an ounce of difference. So when I’m lying there, grinding my teeth down to bloody nubs and desperately treading water to keep from sinking into mania, I practice love. I just keep reminding myself to love, love, love. I tell myself that hatred and fury will only make me old and ugly inside; love. When my brain can’t handle the sheer force of their assitude, love. But I don’t wanna… love. LOVE.
As the dulcet tones of pumping hip-hop lulled me – once again – into a soothing state of moderate-to-severe anxiety this week, I reached for my brand, spanking new Dark Grimoire Tarot. I just really needed a cheering up and hoped that the appearance of some horrible monster from the pit would do just that.
“Dark Grimoire: what should I do about our asshole neighbours?”
ETA: Simply stunning Lovecraftian jewellery.