Margaret Thatcher next door

My child and I live in an apartment. It's a small one, we are two people sharing an area of 57 sqm, in an older rental apartment where you hear your neighbors more than desired. Like the neigbor directly above us. The lady upstairs seems to have as a life goal to ruin the lives of all of us as much as possible, me in particular. Why she has chosen me as her favorite hate object, I don't know, but i guess it's because I stopped opening my door for her.

This whole shananigan started 9 months ago when she had recently moved in and bumped into me in the stairwell and saw which door I went into. She immediately claimed my life by knocking on my door. She wanted to see how we had furnished our home as "inspiration", as she said. Hesitantly, l let her take a look even though I should have listened to my inner self shouting "No!". That "look" ended with her rummaging through our pantry and begging for food. She got some food, not because I felt sorry for her but because I just wanted to get rid of her. Get her out of our home.

After that, it seemed that she assumed that I was some kind of food vendor, she came several times a day and knocked on the door. She was hungry. She had no cigarettes (I hate smoking and thus don't give a flying flip about money for cigarettes, and don't give a flying flip about money for cigarettes), and her husband was allegedly violent. I, a very introverted and autistic person, had enough of this horrific social terror and stopped opening the door. I had thankfully unplugged the doorbel already the first day my child and I moved in. None of us like doorbells. But the knocks. These dadrat knocks. She never stopped knocking. So I contacted our landlord who thankfully got her to stop terrorizing my door.

But, being the dagnabbit scunner she is, she chose to start banging on the walls of her home instead. And stomp on the floor, just above the bedroom. And throw things against the walls in her apartment. We are now three neighbors who are terrorized daily and nightly by this woman with all her deranged behaviours. It's almost a little impressing how much noise one singular person can make every day. It never ends. This has been going on for months and the landlord has not done much else to stop her disturbances. We who are sharing stairwell with her,  have struggled to get our landlord to listen. We have kept disturbance records, we have recorded her banging and screaming. We have all called the disturbance hotline so many times that they how know us all by our first names. Still, the neighbor continues to bother and yet our landlord believes that we-the ones being terrorized-have hot done enough to solve the issues ourselves

As if it is possible to reason with a person with a rotten personality and a non- existent consideration for other people. As long as she lives here there will probably be no end to this misery. My child and I are counting down the days until summer. Not so much because we look forward to the warmer days and thus the other neighbors who come crawling out of their homes, pale as corpses from their winter hibernation to get some sunlight, hoarding spring flowers and go through pollen allergies. What we are looking forward to, is the opportunity to leave this place, the small apartment, and the psycho upstairs in particular, for good. My child is finishing primary school and I intend to seek my income elsewhere. Until now, we have not been able to afford to move, it's not even certain that we can afford to move in the summer either, but we are going to wing it. The alternative is to commit mercy killing. Not so much out of mercy for the disturbing neighbor, but out of mercy for the rest of os who happens to share stairwells and walls with Margaret Thatcher II. 

While these disturbing noises has been going on from the floor above us, I have slowly but surely left democratic and empathetic thoughts behind me regarding this woman upstairs. For every day that passes, where she continues her banging, and stomping, and smashing of things, a piece of humanity is planed away, in my mind. Medieval torture methods are starting to sound interesting. The Saw-films almost seem to have an inspirational shimmer to them. I'm usually a friendly person with strong pacifist tendencies, but anyone will eventually break down from lack of sleep and lack of peace in mind. The CIA has torture methods that involve destroying a person through persistant, repetative noises. Has Margaret Thatcher II taken a crash cours with the CIA, or is she just born evil? 

Slowly but surely, our landlords flatness to this whole situation has layed the foundation for cynism and a genuin desire to hope that our neighbor accidently set herself on fire when she smokes. Yes, I want her to burn to ashes. Or fall down the stairs. Or get hit by a truck. I don't care anymore, I just want her to stop with her banging, slamming, screaming and stomping. There are fourteen weeks left until summer. Fourteen weeks of daily audial torture. Then we will hopefully leave this madness behind. And never, ever again shall I open the door to a crazy neighbor.