I love living in my new home, for the most part. The facilities are great, there is adequate security, and the building is well managed. However, my fellow residents don’t seem to appreciate peace and quiet as much as I do. Ah, the neurotypical social brained folks again. They seem to be everywhere, and well, indeed they are. Knowing full well that neurotypicals need to congregate for loud, noisy, often mindless, interactions involving a certain measure of mess, there is a very large common area, the lounge, in the middle of the first level, away from the individual units. Here, people can make noise and be sociable as much as they want. There are even doors, which they can keep closed, to prevent the sonic effects of their revelry from disturbing other less noise-inclined residents.
However, there is always a proportion of social-brained NTs who will insist on carrying their socialising to the extremes. These types don’t seem to be content with assembling within designated spaces. Instead, they seep into the quiet areas, the study rooms and the small restful area just outside people’s units, to convene. They infect the tranquility with cacophonous symphonies of discordant shrieks and guffaws, dragging chairs, moving tables, and performing theatrical antics until the wee small hours of the morning. Oh, and the very clear signs that say “No Food or Drinks” mounted on the walls serve merely as sad, pathetic and feeble bleeps in the atmosphere of rowdy mockery. They deride the sacred functions of order and serenity, they scoff at others who may enjoy a different way of existing, and they leave behind the rotting residuum of their few hours entertainment. Gratification at the expense of other people, gleeful annihilation of site, space and situation.
Yes, I have sent in an email to the manager of the building. I do hope she can help resolve this. My anxiety levels are shooting up, I lie in bed shaking from the overwhelming jangle of chatter, sudden fireworks of shrill and roaring laughter, and nauseous from the smells emanating from their food and their rancid bodies. The door is closed, yes, but not air tight, and air carries sound and smell. And the floor brings unwanted vibrations.
Is there any hope for humanity? The morning heralds the welcome sounds of the vacuum cleaner and the smell of disinfectant traipsing through the wispy crevices to ease the pain of my agony. The hardworking cleaner brings fresh hope for the day. Until the evening descends upon me again.
Tribute to the neurotypical revelers.
in the wee small hours
metal on tile
more, more, more
crawling up the walls
fun and games