It was me. I did it.

If you've been wondering which one of your neighbors called you in for a noise violation, wonder no longer.

It was me.

It was me in a very sleep deprived, head pounding, delirious state.

You had been blaring your bass for days with no end in the foreseeable future. And I just couldn't take it any longer.

You live in an apartment, dude. You have to respect the people around you. Have some courtesy or get a house. I hear it's a buyer's/renter's market.

Call me an old lady if you must, but your punk rock isn't appropriate at deafening volumes at 12:30 AM on a Monday.

I could literally hear the music while the sink was running. From another floor. While it was raining.


So I did what I had to. I called you in. I complained. And eventually, the music muted.

And I slept very well for the first time in nights.

And I enjoyed the silence for three nights.

Tonight, I hear the pounding again. Over my TV. Over my typing. Over my buzzing hard drive.

Although it's way beyond the building's quiet time, I'll give you until midnight before I call again.

Two strikes, buddy. You really going to test me a third time? You wouldn't want to get evicted because of a stereo, would you? That just seems very immature. High school, even.

... Oh, that's funny. Just like that, right before I publish this post, it stops.

The pen really is mightier. Even if it's anonymous.