Friday, June 25, 2004


My upstairs neighbor hums - ALL the time. I can hear her right now, humming something that sounds like it might be a song, or the alphabet. Before I get into analyzing that, let's just talk about how unbelievably thin these walls must be. How can you hear someone humming clearly through an entire floor? There's only so loud you can hum, I mean, c'mon!

Every time I hear her hum (which, since I became a stay-at-home-mom without children, is every single day), it makes me wonder how much of my life she can hear. Not that there's a lot to hear – most of my conversations happen inside my head – but still, it's a little unnerving to think that she can hear every word or sound I make.

I've also realized that almost no one in my building has a job that requires them to actually leave the building. What is that all about? I have an excuse for not leaving – I'm unemployed. Don't they understand that sometimes I want the building all to myself without humming and creaking and baby cooing and breathing?! Damn bunch of get-to-work-at-home people.

I think my upstairs neighbor is a therapist of some sorts. Or a hooker. She has some shady business type name on her mailbox, and I hear her buzzing people in pretty regularly throughout the day. Once she buzzes them in, though, I never hear talking. Honestly, I'm really not trying to listen. It's just that if I can hear humming, I could certainly hear some sort of muffled conversations. So why do people keep coming over and not talking? Either because they’re undergoing hypnotherapy/childhood regression procedures, or are bound and gagged and tied to the bed. Oddly, the latter scares me less.