The confrontation!

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

"Ailey, I need to talk to you!" The girl from upstairs yelled through my door. When I got up to answer it, she was swaying in the hallway and wreaking of booze.

"I want to know what the hell is the deal with you making all of these noise complaints about us!" she said, obviously looking for a fight.

I had been doing my laundry and packing for my long weekend away. Needless to say, I was a little surprised to be verbally assaulted in the middle of my peaceful domestic chores. I was also surprised because (a) the girl doesn't even live in the apartment above mine, (b) we almost never speak to each other, and (c) she was approaching me while drunk.

I calmly explained myself to her - I work during the week, I get up early, I'm a light sleeper, I NEED to sleep. What I didn't mention was that I couldn't help but wonder who stays up until 5 AM on a week night anyway? And who gets drunk every night? And who, at our age, still thinks that the party outweighs the need for other people to carry on with their lives?

"What do you want, to come home to this quiet sanctuary or something? Because, I mean, sometimes I come home from work and I want to get wasted, but there's no one here and I can't. That's frustrating, but I deal with it. So, I mean, maybe you shouldn't expect to have this quiet sanctuary."

I don't expect a quiet sanctuary. I come home to the bass pounding from upstairs, doors slamming, people yelling, marijuana smoke curling underneath my door. I don't mind as long as I'm not trying to sleep. So, I'm at a loss. Can't we all just get along? Can't they all just shut up?