Don’t Mess With a Man’s Sleep Schedule
Flashback to 2014… or so. I moved out on my own in 2013 and moved into an old house converted into a two-floor apartment, directly across from my future in-laws.
The downstairs neighbors were loud. BLARING music at all hours (yes, all of the hours), wouldn’t cut the grass or take out the trash on our shared schedule. Crappy neighbors, but never bothered me directly.
The guy was pretty chill when sober and would turn the music down a little when I texted him. He was okay until his girlfriend moved in. Now add shouting matches to the mix, and all of the sudden my requests to turn down the music makes him turn it up.
I can barely walk on my super-thin floor without her banging on the ceiling with a broom. I was okay since I am heavy sleeper and could sleep through anything.
My wife moved in, and I quickly found out that she is quite the opposite. Fan on turned at a certain angle in the doorway of the bathroom, door closed half way, blackout curtains with them taped to the wall so zero light comes through, zero sounds other than the fan, you get the idea.
I told her that we can’t expect them to remain silent when she’s ready for bed, we need to be reasonable, but the wall rattling music needs to stop during the night.
She hated it during the day, but I told her there’s nothing we can do then, so she would go to her parent’s house a lot during the day. I talked to neighbor-guy, and he said “yeah man that’s cool.”
But it turns out the girlfriend wasn’t having it and his attitude then changed to, “Yeah well it’s our house so you can go screw yourself if you think you can tell us what to do and you can move out if you don’t like it.”
Something definitely had to change at some point. So I did the only thing I could do. I fought fire with fire, and maliciously complied with the law to the T. I could only report them for noise after 11:00 PM. I now forget the morning hour when the noise could start, but I believe it was 9:00 AM.
My dad has these huge old concert speakers in his garage. Professional grade, black leather bound, 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide, and a pretty nice, vintage stereo/amp. He has two, but my apartment was so small I sadly only had room for one.
We replaced our coffee table with this thing, laid face down onto our thin, office carpet. Tired of his tunes, I tested this Geneva Convention-breaking device when they weren’t home. Holy cow.
I had to take everything down from tables, counters and shelves because they would shake off. I prepared audio files to feed the stereo. I was giddy like a kid with a new Christmas toy. I turned it on when I left for work and got my wife up to send her to her parents.
I came home from work and hung out at her parents until it was close to bed time.They resisted for three days. On day two, I found a pile of manure on my doorstep, but it didn’t faze me.
I cycled between sine/saw/square waves in clashing chords, marching music (Washington Post March on loop), preaching clips (they weren’t just atheist, but outspoken anti-Christian, so it was a must), the most stupid songs you could think of (Captain Planet theme song, Chicken dance, etc).
This poor old house rattled in ways I didn’t think possible. The vibrations from the sine wave would make your vision blur. I eventually got a text from him that read, “sorry man you can stop now.” I did not. He needed a few more days to let it sink in. Plus I had so much fun putting it together.
They complained to the authorities and the landlord. There was nothing they could do since I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I didn’t even hear music during the time of peace to follow. It was so quiet. They would build up their courage and try again every few weeks when I wasn’t home, but my wife was.
I then showed her how to tame the beast so she could let it loose while I was away. I had to give them a spanking every now and then, but they learned. They were so happy when we moved out.