Smoking on the Balcony

I live above a smoker's bar.

Not really, but most of the time that's exactly what it feels like...

I rent a single room in a shared apartment. An apartment I share with two other people. I didn't choose to live with them. And they didn't choose to live with me. Sometimes that becomes apparent...

Our apartment has a big balcony. And the apartment below us has one of the same dimensions. Apparently, women love balconies. Both my two female roommates, their numerous female friends and my female downstairs neighbours love spending time on these balconies. They absolutely love it.

How do I know?

I hear them all the time.

No, really. All the fvcking time. And they never finish talking. Never...

I had a free choice which room I wanted to rent in the shared apartment. I went for the biggest one. The one which faces the patio. Because it would be more quiet than the other side which is facing a street.

And I was right. For the first months. Then a neighbour across the patio got a dog. And apparently, he likes to share his blessings with everyone. Because this dog barks so loud and so often that I might consider it to be my own.

That was the loudest source of annoyance before our downstairs neighbours moved in. We had the nicest, quietest neighbours ever. I never heard them. They never annoyed me. And I hope I didn't annoy them, either. Because the thing about me is that I don't want to be a nuisance to other people. I think everybody should live a mostly undisturbed life. I thought that was normal. I thought that's how everybody thinks. And then I met my new neighbours...

If their parties end at 2 AM, then I am super happy. If they don't use the speakers which make the bass shake the walls, then I might even be able to sleep with my wax earplugs in my ears and my headphones over my ears playing some relaxing sleep music. And in addition to that I use progressive muscle relaxation.

I might be able to sleep... I might sleep... Sleep... Until my overweight neighbour tries to get up off her chair to go to the toilet or onto the balcony to smoke. She tries to lift her body off her chair, but her weight is too much for her muscles in her legs. That's why she has to push her chair back. The wooden stool legs vibrate on the kitchen floor in a volume that is discernible as normal household volume -- if you're living in the house across the street from ours...

If I manage to fall asleep using all my tricks in my arsenal, she trying and failing to get up from her chair is a sure fire way to wake me up. And if it wasn't for her chair, her mouth would do it all by itself...

On the balcony, she is never alone. She is accompanied by the woman who rents the apartment next door to hers. And they talk. No matter the hour of the day or the night, they talk in the same volume. Sometimes even quieter during the day as partying until 5 AM usually takes a toll and they aren't fully awake until the next late afternoon.

Our balconies are facing the patio which contains a couple of garages. When they talk the sound waves are thrown back into the direction of our house by the garages. Sometimes I believe that the setup acts as an analogue non-electronic amplifier. Someone should research this phenomenon. Maybe there are other use cases than robbing my sleep and driving me insane...

Of course, I tried talking to them. They are actually quite nice. Of course, I asked them if they could try to talk more quiet when they are on the balcony in the middle of the night. Of course, I asked them if they could turn down the music -- or at least the bass. Of course, I offered to stick these little cushions under the legs of their chairs so that the rubbing against the floor would be a little more quiet when the stool legs are dragged across the floor. And of course they said, they would be quiet... And of course, they said they would turn the music down... They usually are a bit more quiet for a couple of minutes and then they go back to their original volume.

However, the worst part is the cigarette smoke. I absolutely hate the smell of cigarettes. When I was 18 years old, I shared an office with a chain smoker and it was the worst time of my life. The cold smoke stinks the worst. When that guy was on holidays for two weeks, I aired out the office. I had the windows open all day long. In the middle of winter... Windows open, heating full blast. I didn't care. I wanted to get rid off these awful smell...

After those two weeks, the smell was bearable. And within the first minute of returning from his holidays, the chain smoker lit the first cigarette. The first of around 30 per workday -- which is about 3 per hour, in case you're wondering...

Another 18 years later, I have to endure cigarettes 50% less often -- only once or twice per hour -- but at least two cigarettes at a time. So, what has changed? Not much. Not much...

This will be enough for this article... Good night!

What's this?

I mostly write this as a remedy to deal with my frustrations. It's okay if no one likes these articles. I try to write them in an entertaining way, but the main purpose is to let out my frustrations. So if you're not a fan of reading these articles, I can definitely understand. Please just skip these "therapy articles". I will write more interesting articles in the future about more important topics, I promise.