Open House

Last weekend while I was in Manhattan for one of the many marathon-related activities, my upstairs neighbors apparently had an Open House. I came home and saw all the signs and saw the woman and her hellspawn sitting on the stairs waiting for the last person to be finished looking. I would take this to mean that they are actually serious about moving -- which I am thrilled about (of course, I should be careful what I wish for, someone worse could move in, afterall). Anyway, last night when I came in, there was an official-looking memo from the Co-op management company that had been slipped under my door proclaiming that open houses are not allowed in our building (with a bunch of BS about how it is out of consideration for one's neighbors, etc. But having three people, including a two-year-old brat in a studio apartment with no rugs is apparently okay -- no need to worry about the neighbors on that one -- argh!) My first thought on seeing the note was that now these people are going to think that I complained about it. I am, afterall, the one who would be most directly effected by an open house going on over my head (luckily I was not home that entire day). But how much worse could it really be than the brat constantly running, screaming, throwing and scattering hard objects across their bare, hard-wood floors? I mean, really.

For what it's worth, this is the apartment listing.