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Mar. 6th, 2006 11:26 pmThere are two apartments above mine, one of them is a single bedroom and the other is one of those studio/efficancy deals. My apartment is a two bedroom place and thusly, takes up more room.
Over the past couple of months, I have begun to fear the little old woman who lives in the studio apartment which is directly above my bedroom. There is nothing quite like lying in bed in the middle of the night and hearing a creaking old voice start shouting, "GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME!" and the constant bzzzz bzzzzz of her adjustable bed.
The first time it happened, I was sitting at my vanity applying eyeliner and I almost shot right out of my skin. I stared up at the ceiling with something akin to abject horror and wondered what the fuck was going on up there.
She lives alone and, to my knowledge, with no pets. The first thing I thought is that maybe she had a cat and the cat kept jumping on her. Having the five furry beasts I do, I'm well used to this sort of thing. And when my mother was alive, "Get the fuck off me!" in the middle night was something that usually came out of her bedroom, followed up by a disgruntled feline galloping down the hall into the living room after being ousted from the bed.
But with this woman, I never hear any accompanying thumps of a cat jumping off the bed and onto the floor. And the shouting can go on for so long, that I'm beginning to wonder if she's actually experiencing some sort of hallucination.
In the six years or thereabouts I've lived here, I've only spied this woman once and that was during a false fire alarm. She had stood in her doorway, barefooted and in a drooping housecoat, dragging a wheeled oxygen tank behind her. Other than that, nothing.
It's scary, the idea of phantom midnight assailants. Am I going to be like that when I grow old? The idea terrifies me. Old age in general scares me. Every morning when I look in the mirror and see a new patch of silver hair, fear runs through me. More and more the silver hair is taking over the other hair and it leaves me wondering, who is going to take care of me when I'm no longer able to take care of myself?
Over the past couple of months, I have begun to fear the little old woman who lives in the studio apartment which is directly above my bedroom. There is nothing quite like lying in bed in the middle of the night and hearing a creaking old voice start shouting, "GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME!" and the constant bzzzz bzzzzz of her adjustable bed.
The first time it happened, I was sitting at my vanity applying eyeliner and I almost shot right out of my skin. I stared up at the ceiling with something akin to abject horror and wondered what the fuck was going on up there.
She lives alone and, to my knowledge, with no pets. The first thing I thought is that maybe she had a cat and the cat kept jumping on her. Having the five furry beasts I do, I'm well used to this sort of thing. And when my mother was alive, "Get the fuck off me!" in the middle night was something that usually came out of her bedroom, followed up by a disgruntled feline galloping down the hall into the living room after being ousted from the bed.
But with this woman, I never hear any accompanying thumps of a cat jumping off the bed and onto the floor. And the shouting can go on for so long, that I'm beginning to wonder if she's actually experiencing some sort of hallucination.
In the six years or thereabouts I've lived here, I've only spied this woman once and that was during a false fire alarm. She had stood in her doorway, barefooted and in a drooping housecoat, dragging a wheeled oxygen tank behind her. Other than that, nothing.
It's scary, the idea of phantom midnight assailants. Am I going to be like that when I grow old? The idea terrifies me. Old age in general scares me. Every morning when I look in the mirror and see a new patch of silver hair, fear runs through me. More and more the silver hair is taking over the other hair and it leaves me wondering, who is going to take care of me when I'm no longer able to take care of myself?