Bitches being bitches

So let me first start out by saying that "bitches being bitches" is one of the life mantras I take very seriously. Kind of like, "It is what it is". It just fits so many situations. For example, the one I'm about to share.

Dave and I moved into our new apartment about a month ago. In the month we've lived there, we've done some pretty standard tasks one would do when moving into a new place, including putting together furniture, unpacking, having a few guests over. Nothing out of the ordinary. And mind you, the number of times we've had guests over is about three. For dinner. It's also not like we are throwing WILD parties, or blasting loud music, or raging into the night. I work a full-time job that keeps me out of the house from about 7:15am-5:45pm every day, and Dave has been studying for his CPA exam. We are a bunch of real crazies.

To our surprise, we find a nasty note in our mailbox from the tenant that lives in the apartment below us. If you can't read it from the picture (I know it's pretty dark), I can sum up the jist of it:

• We have been more disturbing to him in the one month we've lived there than the past three years of tenants combined
• We must think that we live in a condo or single family home the way we walk around with no consideration of those living around us
• We walk so heavily that it shakes his furniture, and knocks stucco off his ceiling (ha!)

He then proceeded to make a copy of our lease and highlight portions he thought we were in violation of. My personal favorite section was where he claims he is not trying to start a passive aggressive rivalry, but instead of walking up one flight of stairs and knocking on our door to talk to us in person, when we had been home ALL day, he chooses to write a letter. Not being passive aggressive huh?

Now, I'm not gonna lie- I probably have been stomping around a little more than usual lately. Can I help it that I have sharp pain in my back every time I put weight on my left side, due to the baby's head rubbing against my sciatic nerve? No. Or that I have a watermelon to carry around? Nope. So I will admit, my footsteps may be a little heavy, but this guy needs to chill.

Instead of getting [too] worked up about it, I've decided to might light of the situation by laughing to myself, and AT him, because if he thinks he's had enough now, then he's really in for it. Once this baby comes, we will be walking around in the wee hours of the morning, most likely stomping like the sleep-deprived zombies that we will be, and having a lot more guests over that come to see the baby.

I mean, I'm all for conflict resolution and handling disputes in an adult manner, but this guy went off on us. He gave us no warning or indication whatsoever that we were even being loud or disruptive, then berates us that he's had enough and we are such inconsiderate people and threatening to involve our landlord. Had he just walked up the flight of stairs, knocked on our door, gave us a heads up like "oh hey you are a being a little loud", that would have been one thing, but he is messing with the wrong pregnant lady. I'm on a short fuze, uncomfortable, hormonal, and the last thing I need to be worrying about is a psychopath neighbor who can't handle when people walk above him. Guess I'll have to learn the skill of apparating.

So that's that. Bitches being bitches.