Oh, I'm so glad you brought this up. I have to vent big time!!! We live in an apartment, and, oh, let's see. The upstairs neighbor has a dog that she lets out on the balcony. My patio is right beneath her balcony, and I have a dead garden (whoops!) and a pretty patio seat that I used to like to sit on and just watch the sunset or rise or whatever. Well, instead of letting him out and taking him down to the grass or having him house-trained, she lets him onto the patio. The balcony is wooden, with slatted beams, so I can sort of see up there. Do you see where this is going? That's right. I go out there one morning to watch the sun come up, sitting with my freshly squeezed juice, and I got tinkled on by her frigging dog!!! You have NEVER heard me curse like I did when that happened. I screamed so loud, she came out onto the balcony and looked down through the slats, and yes, I threatened to do something really bad, and I regret it, but sheesh, that's freaking gross. She had the nerve to act like I was being unreasonable, but PEOPLE, DON'T GET AN ANIMAL UNLESS YOU'RE GOING TO PROPERLY TAKE CARE OF THEM, and that does NOT include letting them crap and pee all over the balcony because you are too lazy to walk them downstairs for five minutes, okay? Now, I can't go onto my patio, and I've noticed that there are little dried up...biscuits...all around my patio now. Wonder what those are? I'm thinking of sweeping them onto a pretty silver tray, wrapping them with colored plastic wrap and a big bow, and leaving them outside of her door. Whaddya think?
Okay, that's upstairs directly above us. The people who live behind HER like to tapdance on the wooden stairs on their way up and down the stairs like Gene Kelly: tappitytaptap-up-down-up-up-down-boom-tap-boomboom-tap. The stairs are built against a wall that happens to be the other side of my living room, and you can feel it when you're sitting on the couch, not to mention it's so loud you can hear them clear across the apartment. Grrr.
Then there are numerous losers who like to sit on the patio seat and chitchat at all hours of the night with their friends. I used to hate this, but now that the dog upstairs is peeing all over the place and dropping you-know-what through the slats I don't mind nearly as much.
The guy behind us on the same floor likes to play 'Open Arms' by Journey at the top of his stereo capacity and sing along with it. He plays the song on automatic repeat so we get to hear it like fifty times in a row. Then he switches to AC/DC. Then back to Journey. He also likes to masturbate in his bathroom, and if you're in ours, you can hear him moaning and talking dirty to himself right through the walls. He's really friendly in the hall, but I think he'd be less friendly if I told him, "Yeah, I like it rrrrrough...how'd you know?"
The guys across the hall leave trash bags full of crap sitting on the doormats for days at a time (umm, we're fifty feet from the dumpster, okay? This is sad..) and the stray cats get into them and rip it to bits, and then they call the front office and complain that WE left trash bags (which we don't, we keep them inside the apartment and take them out every two days directly to the dumpster) for the cats to get in, and could they please tell US to pick them up? I have to say, I also got quite rude with the office dingdong when she had the nerve to call again a second time and tell me that if I didn't pick up MY trash from the hall they were going to add a fine to my monthly rent.
Then there's the parents whose kids play in the parking lot unsupervised. Then there's the kid across the hall who likes to ring and run away, as if we didn't see him through the open window in the living room as he approached the door.
Then there's the couple who likes to have sex in the lounge chairs by the pool at night when they think no one is watching (and believe me, all curtains are cracked open in every single apartment surrounding the pool just in case this happens).
Then there are the punks who have been dumping dirt and twigs into the dryers while people's newly clean clothes are drying off.
I have to stop now, I'm getting a migraine.
Ps. I. HATE. RENTING.