Dear Neighbor...

Dear Neighbor From The Floor Below,
You may not recall, but you stumbled into my apartment at about 3:30AM the other night, piss drunk, wearing nothing but your boxers. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your visit:

• First, thank you for wearing the boxers with the button. Not that they leave much to the imagination- it just goes to show that being 6' 3'' and built, doesn't necessarily imply endowment. I trust that "Sherry," (or whomever) doesn't mind. 
• Thank you for giving some legitimacy to my little girl's freak-outs. Lately she's been acting strangely agoraphobic in the stairwell. Instead of going down the stairs ahead of me, as I'd like, she jumps up clamps onto me like a starfish, fussing at the slightest noise about Strangers. I try to assure her that we know everyone in the building, and no strangers can get in the front door. But it all must sound like the adults on Charlie Brown for the good it does. After your behavior the other night, I'll definitely be more patient with her from here on out. 

• And finally, thank you for teaching me the valuable lesson, that even if our building is security-card access, we are acquainted with or neighbors, or even awake, there still may be a good reason to lock our door.  

Now, if I may offer a word of advice: Life can actually be fun, entertaining, and meaningful without getting plastered every single weekend (or in this case, the middle of the week)! Being sober doesn't mean being an Old Fogy (I'm only a year older than you- judging by your assurances to my husband that "Dude, I've lived in this apartment for 6 years,") nor does it imply having a stick up your butt. Ironically, it's the other way around, and your head- it's no accident they call it getting "Sh**faced."


Sincerely,
The Apartment Above Yours