Loud neighbours...

Good morning!

Wonderful, just really wonderful. What? Going to bed really early to get a good nights' sleep just to be awakened at half past four in the night by the cheap gangsta rap of your neighbour the apartment below. After some hesitation I got up, marched down the stairs with a steady step, knocked at his door sharply, just to be opened by another random person who could very well qualify as a quirky comic character. The sweet scent of weed left their apartment, with nervous shadows running about. Stating my request was not really necessary, so they turned the volume down a bit. Enough for me to sleep on, at least.
Now, I've done this like four or five times now (telling neighbours to turn down the beat), and I still hate it. First, it pushes me in the role of the unfun, streamlined white-collar worker who just destroys other peoples' happiness. Second, I hate communicating the moment I just awoke, but have to do it. Third, it frustrates me to have to tell people that are rights end where those of others begin (and vice versa, of course). Shouldn't a grown-up man, like, KNOW that loud music can easily be heard in the neighbouring apartments?
Oh well, the night's over anyways, and there's some relatively "big" events going on today on the job side of life. More on that later, stay tuned!