Let Them Eat Cake

The prototype ...

This, naturally, left us with a whole lot of cake. What to do? What to do?

First we hit all of the neighbors on our floor. Then we took the top layer to the lobby and sat for an hour and gave out cake.
It was fun. We made lots of people happy and now only have the two 9 inch layers to "dispose" of. (The remaining top layer is going to another family on our floor as soon as they get home.)

Now ... I think I need some cake ...

Mr. Upstairs and the Fan Light

I must preface this post by stating that I really like my upstairs neighbor. He's a really good guy and a great neighbor. That said, taken out of context, the stuff we hear from his apartment can lead to some really good stories. The best one is about the Fan Light.

The Ghost Light -- a True Story of City Living

Several years ago, we installed ceiling fans with lights and remote controls in the kids' rooms. We did this ourselves after investing in a Milwaukee hammer drill and, also after having watched a maintenance worker install 3 others in the apartment.

We waited to install the fans until the heat got too hot to bear. We were going to wait until Little Squid had out grown the stage that might have him lassoing the fan but we'd still be waiting and springtime can get pretty hot.

Amazingly enough, they went up pretty easily and spun fairly smoothly. A year later, however, Squidette's started exhibiting some alarming behaviors.

Squidette would go into bed around 8 PM, turn out her light and go to sleep. Mike and I would turn to our own beds about an hour later. As a general rule, we'd all remain in our bed for the night.

One night, I woke up around 10:00 PM as I noticed a light in the outer areas. Thinking that I had forgotten to turn one off, I staggered out of bed only to realize that it was Squidette's light. Hmm, I thought as I looked for the remote and turned it off. Maybe she was sleep lighting? Returning to my bed, I forgot about it until the next night. When it happened again.

Mike and I discussed it and started to wonder what our daughter was up to. We spoke to her about it and she was, as expected, clueless.

Going on with our day, we repeated the same patterns and, at about 10:00 had the same outcome. The next night I unplugged her light before she went to bed.

Thinking on it for a few days, we suddenly had an aha! moment as we heard Mr. Upstairs doing some more work on his apartment. He'd been working on it all summer and had done some major demolition and relaid all the wooden floors, doing some lovely work -- he invited us up to see and even gave us a bottle of wine as a "sorry for all the noise."

What if, we thought, Mr. Upstairs had installed a ceiling fan / light with remote control? The local Home Depot had one major brand of this fixture and all of the remotes came set to the same default. We'd left Squidette's fan on the default setting while changing Little Squid's setting.

If Mr. Upstairs had installed a fan with remote and had not changed his settings, could he be triggering Squidette's light? After all, his fan/light would be on his ceiling, but Squidette's was under his floor -- closer then the ceiling.

Bumping into him a few days later, we asked. Yup, he'd installed the same brand of fan / light with remote. Nope, hadn't changed the settings. We explained the problem and politely asked him to do change the settings. He looked at us as if we were weirdos and we went our separate ways.

A few days later, we changed the settings on Squidette's remote.

I really do like my upstairs neighbor -- we got closer a year or so later. One day I will share these stories with him ... or not.

Apartment Living

I love living in a large apartment building. There are many reasons, including a 24 hour maintenance staff, but last night I found a new reason to love my home ... sound transmission.

Some time around 9:30 last night, I finally decided to wash up while Mike watched the last quarter of the Superbowl. While I was in our bathroom, quietly washing my face and brushing my teeth, I heard a huge shout from our upstairs neighbor.

Rushing into the living room I gasped "did the Giants just lose?" Nope, replied my sanguine husband, "they just ..." and he proceeded to describe some sort of amazing play. Noting the score -- the Giants were still losing -- I returned to my ablutions and was changing into my p.j.s when I heard another, actually several, huge, outbursts from upstairs.

As I reentered the living room, Mike looked at me and said "you might as well stay up -- Mr. Upstairs is not going to let you get any sleep." This was punctuated with what was obviously a foot hitting the floor (ceiling) above our heads and a shout so loud it made us both laugh.

I stayed out and worked on my vest until the Giants won and then attempted to go to sleep. While the noise upstairs abated to more normal levels, I think Mr. Upstairs was mostly alone or only had a few friends over, the noise outside rivaled New Year's eve.

Definitely an interesting night in New York.

Dear Upstairs Neighbor,

I know you don't notice it, or if you do, it is only a minor annoyance, one you probably hear a dozen times a day and think, "I really should oil that door hinge." Then you go on with your business. I understand, I'd probably ignore that squeaky hinge too, except for the effect it has on my, um ... personal life.

During the day I don't notice it. Probably has something to do with the fact that both you and I are at work. At night however ... it seems that you go to bed about an hour after I do. And sometimes I am not yet asleep but am engaging in ... shall we say adult play.

When your door squeaks and my husband and I are ... enjoying each other's company ... we suddenly stop and yelp "who's there" at our door -- even though we know our own door does not squeak. It's a Pavlovian reaction.

Even when we are simply sleeping, your door squeak has the same effect -- we think one of our children has escaped from their beds. This is not as damaging to our psyches when we are sleeping as when we are ... snuggling. But doesn't every parent fear the day their children manage to catch them ... um being close? It does, however, tend to jerk me out of that happy, half-asleep place that I tend to be in at that time of night.

So I ask nicely, please, please, please, for the sake of my sanity ... OIL YOUR BEDROOM DOOR!

And send my best to your kids,

Mama Squid