The move.

The sum of my experiences had led me to the belief that the notion of "home" is a feeling rather than a place. Because the memories, emotions and changes that occur during any given point of our lives are too vast to be enclosed in one tiny and finite space. That said, I find that I too often become attached to the space, to the memories. Not remembering that they will travel with me. That, regardless of the space I inhabit, I am grounded by the people who I love.

Right now, I'm looking out the east-facing window of our apartment, which has a lovely view of the mountains. This place has been home for over three years. It's the place where Greg left for his first day of law school, where we both started new jobs, where I took a pregnancy test and saw two lines, where  we brought Sofia after her birth. Oh how my little Sofia loves this place. She has her little corner, and her cupboard in the kitchen. She loves helping me with laundry in our tiny, front-loading washer, that is just at her level. She loves to look out the east-facing window and see her dad coming home from work.

It's become time to leave this place, and its proximity to urbanity, for a more suburban setting. And while this change is warranted and wanted, there is this part of me that still clings to this place.

I know that our new home will eventually feel like it. That the peaceful calm of suburban living (and having an actual yard, apple trees and a garden) will begin to outweigh the proximity to our favorite eateries and grocery stores. In the mean time, I'm taking this all in a bit pensively. Hoping that the new home that we create will be even more wonderful than the one we've been inhabiting.

An open letter (so that I don't actually send it)

[Author's note: On a ratings scale, this post would most likely be PG-13, though I have tried to keep any innuendos or other descriptions as straight-forward and un-crass (crass-less?) as possible. You've been warned.]

Dear Noisy Neighbors,

While it might not be entirely neighborly of me to not know you actual names, I think it's probably for the best. Because it's difficult enough knowing what you look like after hearing what you do at night. I think names would just complicate (i.e. creepify, which is a made up word, I know) things, given the circumstances.

In the three years we've been here, we've never had an issue with noise disturbance before. Sure, sometimes we'd hear the little girl downstairs crying, but that's to be expected when little ones are about. Might I add that we have definitely felt guilt for the disturbance that has undoubtedly come with the addition of our child. But, I think it's important to note that every other consideration has been made to mitigate noise and ensure that we are being conscientious neighbors.

Which brings me to the two of you. I think it's great that you're so sporadically enthusiastic about sex. In fact, I think you should continue to be enthusiastic about it well into your nineties (or whenever). I think it's lovely and healthy and good and all that. However, the fact remains that you two are incredibly NOISY. And not just in a "we can hear the bed creaking" way. In the, "I know exactly when you're trying to top Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally" way. It's woken us up multiple times, and more importantly, it's woken up my daughter in the next room multiple times.

When it's 1:30 a.m. on a weeknight, the last thing I want to hear are, what I have dubbed, "constipated walrus" noises. The fact remains that you both are either completely ignorant to the fact that we can hear you (which is doubtful, given the plethora of ambient and not-so-ambient noise that you can hear from the drug house next door on a nightly basis), or that you just don't care. Either of which is kind of really annoying and inconsiderate. If you want to be that loud, move into a house. Or go into another room where you don't share a wall with your neighbors. Or, better yet, figure out that sex can be just as amazeballs if you don't try to break the sound barrier. (Or hurt every dogs' ears within a 5-mile radius.) I'd almost rather have you pump R. Kelly or something equally cliche, because then at least I wouldn't have to hear YOU. (Though hearing the "Ignition Remix" at 1:30 a.m. probably wouldn't be optimal either. But I suppose that beggars can't be choosers.)

One night I was so frustrated that I actually smacked our common wall... which was ill-advised to be certain, but not loud or hard enough to cause any disturbance. It's just so frustratingly inconsiderate. And creepy. And gross. And I would really love it if you two could just keep it down a little bit. Or move to Switzerland. No offense.

Best Regards,
Your Disgruntled Wall Sharing Neighbor

P.S. If it happens tonight, this letter might just end up being posted on your door tomorrow morning. Kidding. (Kind of.)