An open letter to our downstairs neighbor

Dear Anthony,

I know you're very concerned about coming across as a jerk when you complain about the noise you hear overhead. Well don't worry, you're not being a jerk, you're just being entirely annoying. I understand that living below two people, who are hardly ever home and who go to sleep by 11pm even on the weekends, is a struggle but please try to quit your whining. I appreciate that you think some rugs would help and that you have even offered to purchase them for us but are you really willing to spend a day shopping with me at the retail location of my choice and are you really ready to buy the rug/rugs that I deem ascetically worthy of filling my apartment? Even if you are up for a day of shopping and spending the amount of money of my choice, I'm not interested. I don't know you and therefor I don't wish to spend one of my two free days a week on an intimate shopping excursion to Pottery Barn with you. Did you think you could just buy some rugs and hand them off to me? uh uh. Also, I like our hardwood floors, they're one of the apartment's redeeming qualities. So, no thanks.

While it was very (re: too) nice of M. to invite you in for a drink and offer you his email address, cell phone number, his services to find your petite girlfriend a job and our first born, please do not take advantage of this innocent do-gooder by texting him on a Sunday afternoon, 15 minutes after we've arrived home from the weekend away, asking if we've had a chance to purchase some "thick carpeting." That's hardly neighborly.

Things to keep in mind when making your "I'm really not a jerk" case: If you write to us, chronicling your existence as a New Yorker living anywhere other than the top floor, please don't entitle the letter "Help!!!!" This creates resentment and tension between us and also makes me think you're an idiot. Don't say things like "I'm forced to wake up with you and go to sleep with you." No, you're not. Like I said, we go to sleep quite early by all young-NY standards (and I hear you look younger than us) so I see plenty of good hours in the night when you're not subject to our riverdance rehearsals. You've made it clear that you hear our every move - does this include the busy activity of every week night, which involves me getting my ass off the easy chair to get the butter spray from the fridge or to refill my glass of fresca? Rough go.

I know that karma will likely bite me in the ass and that in our next apartment, I will be subject to living below tap dancers or a bunch of crawling children but for now, I am attempting to live in my top-floor glory. I appreciate your complaints and have therefor taken my usual clydesdale-heavy-footed steps down to just over a tip-toe. Anthony, I'm trying -- so if you could also try by not being such an absolute pain in my ass, I would so appreciate it.

All the best,
your neighbor

P.S. For your benefit and to my detriment, I have stopped the tae-bo-ing altogether. Let's see how friendly M. is to you when I start complaining that "I feel fat."