Here I am, going about my weeks pumping up with my new workout regime, feeling self-motivated and mildly proud of my transition away from running when BAM, the world conspires against me.
By the world, I mean my neighbor. Let’s call him Gonzo. Tuesday night, I got home from work to find a note under my door. My first thought was “How quaint, a note from someone, slipped under my door. Kinda cute.” Then I read the letter, and it was not cute. Although it wasn’t altogether mean, it was disconcerting.
I realize I may be reaching the wrong apartment as you are almost always super quiet, but this morning there was a loud thumping noise (as if someone was jumping in their apartment) from 7am to about 8:15. This cost me a couple hours of sleep. My apology again if this wasn’t you. I hope all is quiet on my end.
Hm. What to do? My plan was to be honest, and slip a note under his door in response.
The only thing I can think of is that I did a workout DVD this morning, but I didn’t start until 7:30, and I’ve been doing it for weeks without disturbing you. Regardless, hope you still had a good day.
P.S. You are fantastic on the muppets.
P.P.S. I will not requite you with my phone number and email address because clearly this system of dropping notes under doors is much more efficient.
Okay cool, no big deal, a day goes by, Gonzo doesn’t write back, and one day at 11am I break out Jillian Michael’s DVD for a mid-morning butt-kick sesh. I’ve yet to be able to finish this workout and have skipped the last 2 circuits everytime, but this time was looking like a victory!
Until… KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.
There it was. Gonzo, furiously knocking on my door, ready to be all muppety in my face. I opened the door and received a grown-man-but-really-i’m-six-years-old-and-no-you-can’t-use-my-green-crayon tantrum.
“This is soo inconsiderate, it’s just, it’s just inconsiderate. Can’t you join a gym? Can’t you workout on the roof?”
Well, wow. I haven’t been confronted like that in a long time. I listened, I sympathized, and I made an attempt to reconcile with compromise. (that is a kickass rhyming sentence). We ended with the notion of my trying to keep my workouts to the evenings only. Certainly NOT early in the day according to Gonzo, and I would certainly not entertain the idea of working out on the roof. (But really, when it’s not so hot out, I could try it out?).
Since this confrontation, I haven’t done any workouts in my apartment. I’m actually scared to. And while I wish I had a stronger backbone to stick to my routine despite the Gonzo attack, maybe I am shaking his world upside down with my jumping jacks?
I need to find a solution. What to do… what to do…