Part Deux

   After the pot pipe debacle, I became acutely aware of how much noise we were making in our tiny second floor apartment. This became a nightly dispute between Jonathan and me:

"Jonathan! Don't walk across the room so loudly! Softer footsteps! Think of Sally," I'd whisper.

My admonishments were met with long stares, rolling eyes, followed by an "Oh boy," and several more stomping steps. Jonathan doesn't take well to "rules". He's a rebel. Always has been, always will be.  Part of his charm.  And I love this about him. Bad boys are cool to chicks, you know?
Sally began to retaliate to any noise we made by banging a broomstick on her ceiling. We'd be making dinner in the kitchen. Boom boom boom. Taking a shower. Boom boom boom. Cavorting cats, frolicking across the living room floor. Boom boom boom. It was getting intolerable for all of us.  Plus, it had to be damaging her primary form of transportation.

  The final coup de gras occurred when one night we came home to a message on our answering machine from Sally which said, "If you don't do something about those CATS running around in the middle of the night, I WILL!" Click.

  Well, that was just it for me. Nobody messes with my cats. Nobody. They are my children, I love them with all of my heart and they NEVER do anything wrong. You don't threaten their lives, Motherf-er!  I stomped down the stairwell, marched to her door, knocked and yelled, "Sally!"  I paused, hearing quiet murmurings and soft shuffles. The lights went out in her apartment. Typical of a bully. Totally passive aggressive behavior. I believe she knew that she'd gone too far, but the damage was done. I knew this situation wasn't going to work. So, a month later we moved out. Through clenched teeth, I even wished Sally well as we left.  I hope she's not sad, alone, in pain and morbidly obese these days, but if she is...oh well, karma is a bitch and so was Sally.

 Our next few homes had no neighbors. A perfect situation for us. However, two years ago we decided to rent a small farm in Millbrook, NY. The property is beautiful, and we live in a cottage, with a lovely small barn, paddocks and indoor ring to run our business. A virtual shangri-la.  Except, the property manager lives on our property, with his wife and kids.  Their house is next to our cottage and they have a dog. A very boisterous, young black Labrador.  To be continued...