Patio Update: More Sex, More Cops, and a Dog.

Been a while since an update, huh? I figured another visit by the Sacramento Sheriff's Department justified a CGWI update.

When we last left off with the neighbor drama, the cops had shown up, at her request, and requested the asshat boyfriend leave. I'd closed that update out wondering how many days it would be before the Asshat was back.

Well, that's a little open to conjecture. There was a guy, about three days later. I could hear that through the open window. Whether it was the same guy, I couldn't be sure, but I suspected this was someone new. I got this from the argument I was forced to hear. I couldn't hear all of it (I was, frankly, trying hard to ignore it and get back to writing), but the accusatory, angry words I heard from him were, "After all I've done for you, and then I try to take our relationship to the next level, and you--" I lost it after that. Just heard her crying and yelling stuff back. So from that, I gathered that this was a new guy, a male friend who'd been waiting for his opportunity to make his move, and now had a chance since Asshat was out of the picture. Three days is a fair expectation for a woman to get over a relationship, don't you think? And now it appeared he'd been up there trying to make that move, and she wasn't having it, and he was pissed off about it, certain that whatever it was he'd done for her was an investment that was going to get him some if he waited long enough. Nice. She can really pick 'em.

I think it was a couple nights after that I caught a reflection in my laptop screen while it was powering up - her and a guy walking toward her building. Just a quick flash, but it did make me wonder if this was the Asshat or someone new (maybe the man friend who'd been feeling ripped off by the lack of quid pro bone). Frankly, it's really hard to tell these guys apart. They're all the same. Fairly short, but with plenty of time spent in the gym to compensate. Ball cap tilted sideways. Pants hanging down over their boxers. I couldn't be sure. But it was about a half hour later when the sex chorus began again. At least the windows were closed this time. But that wasn't enough to drown out either her or the overly loud spanking sounds and accompanying screams.

The next night, around 3:00 am, I carefully opened my patio door and listened. Silence. No porn chorus. I sighed in relief. I went back inside, finished up something I was working on real quick, punched a cigar, grabbed my laptop, and came back out. As I rolled out through the door, I heard the chorus sounding, closed my eyes, and shook my head. Part of me wasn't going to be bullied out of my nightly ritual and intended to stay, but that idea lasted about a minute. Every window and the glass door seemed to be open up there, and it didn't just sound like they were right in the next room, but right on the patio with me. I couldn't take it. I went back inside, checked the clock, and decided to try again in maybe thirty minutes. Once more, I cautiously listened first after cracking the door. The concert seemed to be over, and it didn't sound like there was an encore coming. Had it still been going on, I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or to give the guy a thumbs-up of congratulations next time I saw him. The complex quiet again, I cleared my head and got down to writing.

Since then, things have been workable. No free x-rated radio, no fights, nothing. I've counted myself fortunate. All I've heard, mostly during the day, has been the incessant barking of her little dog, who apparently is locked in there by himself all day. It occurred to me that except for a couple of times after I first saw her in the complex, I haven't ever seen her walk him, day or night. I know enough dog people to know how much that would piss them off, yappy small dog or no. A dog needs fresh air, needs some exercise, and also needs to NOT crap and whiz all over the apartment. This got me wondering, again - aren't pets NOT allowed in my complex? But I figured I must have been remembering wrong, because surely something would have been said to her by now, especially knowing MY apartment manager.

Today, after doing some running around, I came home and noticed my upstairs neighbor's car was gone. This is a rare treat, he-of-the-open-windows actually leaving his home (he's normally there 24/7, either unemployed like me, or stuffing envelopes and making the fabled $3000 - $5000 per month from home that the telephone pole flyers promise), and giving me a chance to have a smoke out here in the middle of the day. I did my usual courtesy rounds, though, after I got my mail, just to see if any other windows around my place were open. The only one I saw was the second story one of CGWI, and imagine my lack of concern about THAT.

So I got out here, lit up, and decided to do some reading before I started writing. After a few minutes of this, I heard CGWI coming out on her balcony, clearly talking on the phone. I say clearly because she only seems to have one volume - whether while chatting or moaning - and that is playing to the back row of the theater. So, like it or not, I was once again privy to her conversation, something that blocked out any chance of me focusing on my reading. The conversation, I quickly learned, concerned the dog. What do you know - my manager HAD brought it up. She was talking to a friend about how the landlady wouldn't listen to her because she knew that her father was paying the rent, and that she didn't think the landlady could do anything about it, blah blah blah. If I'd had her cell number, I might have texted her at that point and let her know that the landlady (the office is right by my apartment) could likely hear every word she was saying, just like me. But, sometimes these kids gotta learn.

She went back inside after a couple of minutes, but not before I heard The Guy (Asshat status unknown) talking to her from inside. I was able to read again. I heard a car pull up into the complex, and decided to check and see if it was Upstairs Guy returning home from his all-too-brief-journey (maybe he'd gone out to pick up some more envelopes). No, not him. It was a Sheriff's car. Two officers got out and came walking by me, calmly and slowly, and one said hi to me. They kept going, and GUESS where they ended up?

I heard CGWI talking to them at the top of the stairs, but couldn't make out much. I did hear her use the words "I'll be moving in a couple of weeks anyway" and my heart did a pleasant little somersault. Soon one officer came strolling back and got in the car. After a couple of minutes, the other officer did, too. Okay, I was really confused. Clearly, if it WAS Asshat up there, there had been no fighting of any kind, so there was no reason for her, or anyone else, to call the police. Was my landlady trying to have her forcibly evicted for having a dog? I didn't think such a thing was legally possible, but I wouldn't put it past her to try. This is the same landlady who has cars of tenant guests towed at 1:00 in the morning on a Friday night for being in the (closed) office parking row.

I heard the office door open as the cops started their car, and out came said landlady, walking toward them. "What's going on?" I heard her say, because her volume level, too, is suited for singing the national anthem in a powerless stadium (thankfully, I only know this to be true for her "chat" volume...). She clearly hadn't called them. Traffic was going by on the street, being rush hour, and the police cruiser engine was going, so I could only get little bits. But I heard:

COP: "Just a father and daughter blah blah blah--"

LANDLADY: "Not even supposed to have a dog in there."

COP: "Blah blah leash--"

LANDLADY: "Blah blah blah even with a leash--"

COP: "Blah blah moving in a couple of weeks blah blah--"

That's about all I got. Now I'm still confused. The police being called was some kind of father/daughter thing? Did her father call the police on her? For the DOG? Or did CGWI herself call the police, in some kind of dingbat expectation that they would listen to her story and go tell the landlady the dog was allowed to stay? I do not know. But the police left, the landlady went back to the office, and I saw the girl and her young knight come down the stairs (without the dog, who surely sat at the door wondering, "Is anyone going to #$@& walk me EVER?!") and head toward the back of the complex, where he parks his white Camaro (which I know because I've been out on that side smoking a couple of times when they've parked and climbed over the low brick wall between the mini-mall and our complex).

So today's mystery is still a mystery, but one with a dandy silver lining. Loud neighbors gone in a couple of weeks! Woo hoo! The complex will once again be peaceful and quiet. All that will be left to make the tenants' lives here perfect is to find some way to rid of that cigar guy...