That’s what I exclaimed when I first heard the piercing screeching coming from the ceiling. A screaming baby over my head was exactly the last thing I needed. You take some things for granted in life, like the ability to enjoy a little bit of silence in your flat. Well, let me tell you, enjoy it while you can because a screamer like the one waiting in the dark for the next round of wailing may be just around the corner.
After a couple of days, I was able to see the little bugger with my own eyes. It turns out that it’s not a baby, as it was standing near my door screaming in a way that made it choke, with no intention to stop, though. His mother took her time with the buggy outside, and she had a calm expression on her face like she didn’t even care her bundle of joy was screaming in the building ready to wake up the dead. Turns out, the little screamer has a brother. Or a sister, as I cannot tell the gender of a child covered up to its nose and with a hoodie on. This one is a stomper, and now I cannot decide which one is worse. They are a good team, though, making sure I don’t get a moment of silence.
Since the lovely family decided to nest above my flat, my life has never been the same. It’s all about the best ear plugs and countless hours of music via headphones even when I don’t feel like it. It’s all about survival now, and I’m not quite sure I am cut out for this special kind of bullshit.
It is no secret I am no fan of kids. Or people for that matter. Especially loud, obnoxious ones who stomp around and seem to be banging every object in their flat multiple times a day. Parents who let kids scream until they sound like they’re about to die or let them roam free at full speed in a first floor flat get no sympathy from anyone, so all that I can give them is a basket full of resentment and wishes that someone with a one-month baby and a passion for stilettos would decide that the flat above theirs would make the perfect home.
Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking about leaving everything behind and go live in a forest, with only the sound of leaves and maybe a couple of foxes to keep me company. Maybe it’s time to revisit the thought of embracing the nomad life. I hope there’s a special kind of hell for inconsiderate people who seem to think that everyone should suffer together with them because they decided to be breeders. The feeling of entitlement of people like these is amazing, but I’m going to be the bigger person here and wish them the best. The best screamer in the world with a black belt in stomping over their heads in the near future.
I’m leaving this here because it’s genius and painfully true.