The guy downstairs is worthy of a "People I Meet" post. I rarely see him leave his apartment. When he's outside, he is seen in tattered clothing, covered in tears and stains that look like his clothes haven't been washed in years. He restores clarinets for a living and sells them on eBay. If he doesn't sell enough to make his quota, he doesn't make rent.
His van that is parked in the same spot on the street every day. If someone steals his spot, I entertain myself by assuming that he closely watches outside his window until the car moves so he can reclaim it. True story: I once parked in his spot and left for no more than 10 minutes. When I got back, his van was parked in "his" spot.
It's unfortunate for me that he has odd sleeping hours. Around my normal bedtime, ranging from 11pm to 1am, he spends his time watching television very loudly and playing guitar and bass, also very loudly. He once spent weeks continuously playing the same riff on the guitar. The riff was from a country song he was trying to perfect, but his awful robotic strumming made it sound more like Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song." Sadly, he moved on to the bass and I came to the realization that he's not trying to perfect the riffs he repeats... I think he gets satisfaction from being able to play the riff so he plays it over, and over, and over... Now he is continuously playing the main riff from War's hit "Low Rider." It sounds like a broken record that contains a sole riff played very badly. Please save me.
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