00:00At 3 a.m. I walked upstairs in my pajamas, pounded on my neighbor's door, and he answered still
00:05holding the vacuum. Can you please shut that damn thing off? I'm trying to sleep. He looked at me
00:09like I'd spoken a foreign language. It's the evening, man. I stared at him. It's 3 a.m. It's
00:14my evening. I work nights. I get home. I eat. I clean. I go to bed at 8. That's my
00:19evening. Deal
00:20with it. He shut the door in my face and started vacuuming again. I'd filed three complaints with
00:24a landlord who kept promising to have a word. I'd thumped the ceiling with a broom handle until my
00:29hands went numb, but now I was declaring war. On Friday, I stopped at Home Depot and walked out
00:34with the biggest leaf blower they had. When I got home, I set an alarm for 7.55 and went
00:39to sleep
00:40through the vacuum noises. Saturday at 8 a.m. sharp, I plugged in the leaf blower and pulled the trigger.
00:45The ceiling shook. I heard a thump, a crash, and a grown man sprinting above me. He pounded on his
00:50floor, but I kept the trigger down. Three minutes later, he was at my door hammering and screaming
00:54over the engine noise. I gave it another minute, cut the engine, and opened up. His hair was
00:59straight up, and he was wearing one sock. What the hell are you doing? It is 8 in the morning.
01:03I waited for him to run out of breath. It's my evening. Deal with it. He opened his mouth twice
01:07and gave up both times. He said he was calling the property manager and stormed back upstairs.
01:1220 minutes later, the property manager was at my door. I pointed at the leaf blower, then at the
01:17ceiling. I asked him to pull the noise complaint log for the apartment upstairs. He scrolled and kept
01:21scrolling and kept scrolling. 47 nights on file. He thanked me and went upstairs to have a real
01:27word. The moving truck was in the parking lot by Monday morning. I watched him load the vacuum in
01:31last while I petted my leaf blower. Good boy.
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