A Letter to an Annoyed Neighbor

The following is a hypothetical letter from Miriam to her dormitory neighbor, Augustus. Augustus has been playing loud music without fail every night for the past two weeks, and Miriam is trying to convince them to abolish this wretched habit, for both her sake and theirs. 

My Dear Augustus, 

Although you may not recognize my name, I assure you that with one another, we are quite familiar. If you are still befuddled, however – confused, dismayed, and unnerved – fret no longer; I am merely your exhausted neighbor, lamenting her unfortunate lack of sleep. You may be wondering, dear neighbor, how does this affect me? Why am I responsible for Miriam’s – yes, I’ll remind you of my name – regrettable bout of insomnia? I am no more responsible for her sleeplessness than a falling leaf is to the changing of the seasons. Though they are connected, yes, the former has absolutely no input on the coming and goings of the latter. Or, at least, I assume that is what you are thinking. I have no clue what resides in that skull of yours, as you are quite adept at maintaining surreptitious thoughts. Needless to say, however, there is a great deal of interplay between your actions and my dilemma. To reuse our metaphor from earlier, I am but the falling leaf, and you the unstoppable march of mother earth. 

 But Miriam – yes, that is still my name – this explains nothing! How am I supposed to put your waking hours to rest? That, dear Augustus, is exactly why you are receiving this email. To truly understand, however, we must go back in time a fortnight, to when my troubles began. It was the beginning of the 23rd hour, that is, 11:00 PM, and I was feeding George. Now, you see, George and I – But Miriam! Who is this George character? Aah, yes, an astute observation. George, you see, is my pet goldfish. He and I have travelled long and far, and are now inhabiting the unit next door to yours. We were performing our nightly ablutions when the noise hit. 

A vibrating, thrashing, ungodly sound such that I had never before heard. Floors vibrated, books rattled on the shelves, and George’s tank just about catapulted itself onto the ground. Then began the screaming. Oh, the screaming. I am not one to criticize other people’s music choices, but, in my humble opinion, blasting death metal in the middle of the night is perhaps not the best decision. Needless to say, I was quite surprised. I decided to allow this madness to continue for a small amount of time, perhaps in hopes of the music turning off without my intervention. Alas, this did not happen. At 12:30 AM, I summoned my courage, left my unit, and knocked on your door.

You answered the door at precisely 12:33 AM, and appeared to be quite confused at my interruption. Hello dear sir, I proclaimed. I implore you to please decrease the volume of your music, as it is quite late and is preventing me from retiring for the night. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to keep your music listening hours to 10:00 PM or before, as stated in the dormitory rules. Thank you kindly. To that, you nodded, turned around, and closed the door. I returned to my chamber, both delighted in the non confrontational nature of the interaction and relieved that George and I could now get some sleep. Unfortunately, this did not last. At precisely 2:47 AM, the walls began to shake, drums pounded, and abhorrent screaming began once again. Please, dear Augustus, know that I mean you no harm. Should it have been a more appropriate hour of the day, I would have happily allowed this to continue. However, I believe, and I think that it is a common opinion, that to ensure common courtesy and maintain the sanctity of the dormitory hall, headphones are in order. At 2:52 AM I once again knocked on your door. At 2:55 I pounded. Unfortunately for both of us, the door remained steadfast. Thus, I resigned myself to a night of sleeplessness and attempted to let the raspy tones of the singer lull myself to sleep. 

The next morning, although I do not know when the music stopped, I awoke to blissful silence. Nevertheless, the previous night’s ordeal had done a number on both me and George, and, bleary eyed and frustrated, I scrambled to make it to my 8:00 AM class, which just happened to be music theory. I was half asleep when the voice of Professor Douglas awoke me from my stupor: Miriam! Please explain the circle of fifths to the class. Despite knowing the answer to the question, my sleep-addled brain failed me, and I mumbled a lackluster excuse to direct the class’s attention away from me. 

This very same situation has now been playing itself out for the past two weeks. 11:00 PM comes around, the death metal begins, and I lament my situation. I plead with you to turn it off, you heed my directions for about an hour and a half, and then, when I’m least expecting it, the music begins once more in the wee hours of the morning. These unfortunate events have been taking quite a toll on my daily life: I now have an F in Professor Douglas’ class; George’s fish tank has become dirty, as I have neither the time nor the energy to clean it; and, most importantly, I have not gotten a good night’s sleep since this whole ordeal began. 

Augustus, my dear neighbor Augustus, you have the capacity to put an end to the madness. You hold the power in your hands to restore my sanity and allow the restful world of dreams to grace my presence once again. Please, I beg of you. For my sake, Professor Douglas’ sake, and the sake of dear old George, stop playing death metal past 10:00 PM. 

Sincerely, your extremely exhausted neighbor, 

Miriam