The Upstairs Neighbor

As I conduct yet another late night giggling conversation in both English and broken Portuguese, I remind myself not to be too loud because of the upstairs neighbor. When I first moved in she knocked on my door after a particularly uninhibited night and discreetly informed me that this was 'like a roommate situation' because we can hear fairly well what goes on in eachothers' places.
Sometimes I wonder what she must think of me. Does she hear me playing Christmas carols in late January? Singing along to 80’s power ballads? Arguing in broken Spanish and English as the cook I am hooking up with leaves at 2am? Having loud sex on the creaky murphy bed? Crying on the phone to my mom at 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday? Is she annoyed by the smoke alarm which always goes off loudly when I burn toast in the broiler? How did she like the smell of burning oil as my shirtless Brazilian boyfriend deep fried chicken in the kitchen with the back door wide open? Could she hear my brothers, their girlfriends and I tirading about the dissolution of the American Dream at top volume during my last dinner party? Has she noticed I play the same albums over and over? And that I listen to my ‘Latin Lounge’ compilation constantly? Did she hear me dancing and wailing along to Justin Timberlake’s Lovestoned?! Has she noticed the revolving door of strange foreign men coming in and out of my apartment at all hours of the day and night? Does she sometimes suspect she is living above a brothel?!

Does she think that I am A COMPLETE MANIAC?!!?

All I know about her is that she watches A LOT of TV and she seems to enjoy dropping heavy items onto the hardwood floor. I am always hearing strange thunks and thumps right over my head. Other than that she’s a mystery. Oh, and she was once sleeping with a guy who had a personalized license plate that said ‘Let’s Play Master and Servant’. I could hear him spanking her late at night sometimes.
My only hope is that she can’t hear TOO well up there…