Where My Horns At?

After coming to the realization that the neighbor is here to stay—the building manager has been ignoring my various emails—I settled down for a night of TV shows with “Pierre”  having a follow up discussion about the various sounds emanating from all corners of my apartment.  While he starts in on his mantra to “RELAX,” “Just Calm Down,” and (my favorite) “Don’t you think you are being a little dramatic” (did I mention Pierre is hearing impaired?), I begin taking deep breaths and snuggling in on the couch next to him to watch the TV.  Just as his breath from his final, “Relax” is passing through his lips, the trumpet sounds and I don’t mean it figuratively.  I mean an actual trumpet starts playing from some apartment near mine.  Jumping up, I start to look for where this new aggravation is coming from.  In deaf bliss, Pierre looks at me awkwardly, “What are you doing?” he asks.  “Do you seriousssssly not hear this?”  He shakes his head.  “How do you not hear this?!? Are you serious?  There is now a f()ckning TRUMPET playing!”  Once I said these words, hysteria followed.  I couldn’t stop laughing. Who has to deal with this?  Sex, high heels, loud TV, loud talking, clumsy dropping, and now a trumpet.  It was beyond absurd… a new level of ridiculous.