Dear upstairs neighbors,

I don't consider myself an angry person, but you really bring out my inner Tasmanian Devil. At first, it wasn't so bad. You made a little noise, but I'm sure we did too. Then it started getting out of hand. I can't even count how many times I've woken up to you showering while blasting your terrible music. I'm actually fairly certain I have your playlist memorized (there's a heck of a lot of Drake in there).

Then there's the issue of moving chairs across the floor. I swear with the way you drag and throw the chairs around, they're going to come crashing through our ceiling one of these days.

We're not even going to talk about the numerous times that there was so much stomping around coming from your domain that we went up to talk to you and realized Just Dance was happening.

We ALWAYS know when you're getting ready for a night out on the town; I promise it isn't necessary to wear your high heels until you head out the door. The periodic screams of excitement are also not cool.

You probably didn't realize this, but we had you on a punishment and reinforcement schedule for awhile. Those thumps you heard from down below? We were throwing a ball at the ceiling when you got too obnoxious. We had planned to bring you cookies when you were acting like peaceful, quiet creatures, but we're still waiting for that moment to come. Meanwhile, the cookies are no longer safe for human consumption.

Sometimes we can hear your talking over the TV, which is strategically on a higher volume than necessary to block out background noise. Hats off to you for thwarting our efforts.

Once upon a time, I didn't feel this immense amount of rage directed at you and your noise making, but all rational thought has fled at this point.

I swear you get inspiration from these upstairs experts:

(If you haven't already seen it, I definitely recommend watching the video here).

Sincerely,

The fed-up people downstairs

P.S. Is there a chance you descended from a line of elephants?