I've talked about our psycho upstairs neighbours before. The saga continues, and last Wednesday at 6am, we were regaled by the little girl screaming her head off about getting out of bed. By 6.15, her mother joined in on the screams. We are normally treated to such shenanigans, but not usually before 6.45am. Then on Friday, at 7am, the mother decided that she needed to do some vacuuming. Delightful.
Some people have said, "oh you'll see what it's like, if you have kids," but such comments make me want to stick my foot up their proud posteriors. I seriously think that when a child is throwing a fit every single day at the same time, with the mother following afterwards, this is something beyond "capricious".
And every time we have people over, they look at the ceiling as the little girl is screaming/the mother is screaming/the mother is vacuuming psychotically, and they look at us incredulously and say, "but why don't you say anything?"
The problem is that Sylvain is too darned polite and doesn't like rocking the boat. I'm not the confrontational type either, and people who know me well will acknowledge that I like to sweep things under the carpet and pretend they're not happening rather than deal with something negative. So, every time I see the mother from upstairs, I bite my tongue and force a polite smile.
Except this morning.
After overhearing a particularly loud screaming match between the mother-and-five-year-old-daughter between the jolly hours of 6.30-8am, I couldn't help myself when I saw her locking the door as I came out of the stairwell.
"Bonjour madame," I blurted out. "I live downstairs from you, and I'm horribly embarrassed to say this, but I've got to tell you, we hear everything."
She looked at me wide-eyed for a second, then turned to her daughter and snapped, "you see?"
I interrupted, because I simply couldn't let this go past - she couldn't blame her daughter for everything, "no, madame. We hear BOTH of you."
She blinked at me and replied, "oh.... well, thankyou."
I felt really bad, and my heart beat fiercely as I walked all the way down to the station, because I'm sure that she really didn't know we could hear what was going on, and simply needed to be told.
But it had to be done.
I thought hard all day, trying to find something funny to write about (one of those "Oh Katia" moments that my close family and friends know so well), to bring a smile to the face of someone who is very dear to me who is going through a hard time back in Australia.
But then I thought a little more, and knew that she'd appreciate much more an example of me finally growing some balls and actually doing something about a bad situation rather than just sitting back and whinging about it.
Oh, and just in case you actually wanted some typical "Oh Katia" moments? Check out episode 17 of the podcast :)