One of the (many) drawbacks to condo living is that oftentimes you don't just share a wall with you neighbors, you also end up sharing their musical tastes. Whether you want to or not. I suppose it could be worse. We could have been subjected to rap or hip hop. Or yodeling. Instead, all we have to deal with is...
Barbershop Quartet.
Honestly, I didn't know this existed outside of Disneyland. Our neighbor on one side is a member of one such group and they practice. Infrequently, mercifully. And luckily this building is well built enough that you can't hear it through the walls, so you only have to deal with it when the windows are open, which is rarely. They don't sound half bad, as far as these things go, not that I'm in any position to judge. And it's certainly better than what's happening on the other side. Because on the other side we have... Hector.
Hector and his wife moved in in August, buying the condo next door right out from under the elderly hoarder who was renting it. Any way you slice it Hector is just odd. He's probably in his early 30's and is what we used to call "husky". I'm not sure he has a job because I run into at all hours when I'm walking the dogs. Hector has a uniform of sorts, wearing the same ensemble every time I see him: black button down long sleeve shirt, black poly-blend slacks, black wingtips. Rain or shine, even when it was 105 degrees, he's the man in black, like a pudgy Johnny Cash. I even saw him out gardening one day in that outfit.
I ran into him the first time shortly after they had moved in. He seemed a little anxious and amped, which I've come to learn is just normal. For him. He introduced himself and then blurted out "just let me know is the music bothers you."
What music, I thought?
I hadn't heard a peep out of them.
"The music. Just let me know if we're too loud. We sing. My wife and I like to sing. Just let me know if we're too loud. We sing a lot."
Got it. Singers. Good to know.
I never heard any singing, but it was late August or September and we had the windows closed and the AC running most of the time.
A couple of days later I ran into him again.
"I hope I didn't scare you last night" he said.
Huh?
"I was crawling under your living room window".
WTF?
Before I could say anything, Hector explained.
"We have bunnies. My wife and I. We have bunnies. We keep them on the patio and one of them escaped. I found it under your window. That's why I was crawling under your window. Didn't mean to scare you."
Got it. Bunnies. Good to know.
Hector was officially creeping me out now.
Sometime in mid-September I ran into Hector again. I was setting off on a walk with the dogs mid afternoon and I could see Hector walking towards us. Dressed all in black, as usual. And carrying a full blown Santa suit. As he got closer I could see he had a demonic grin on his face, ear to ear.
"I can't believe I'm already getting calls!" he exclaimed.
You're a Santa? I regretfully asked.
"You bet! And I'm already getting bookings!"
Yikes.
The next time I ran into him, he was apologetic again.
"Hope we didn't disturb you guys last night. My wife and I really got into it. The singing. We were really into it last night and we got a little loud. Singing."
What the fuck is with the singing??? I still hadn't heard anything and didn't know what the hell he was talking about. By then I had learned to just smile, nod and jerk the dogs in another direction.
Then the hot summer weather started turning fall-ish, the AC was turned off and we would open the windows. And then that's when I heard it.
The singing.
What to say. I wouldn't call it classical voice, exactly. It kinda sounds like he's aiming at opera. More than anything else it reminds me of a trash compactor we once had. Screeching, that the word. Dear god, and loud. Hector evidently fancies himself the Fourth Tenor, but seriously, that voice could etch glass. And the poor dogs. That just might qualify for animal abuse.
They were just getting around to butchering the holiday classics when the weather turned again and we were able to close the windows. Hopefully, forever. With a little luck, we'll be long gone from here before the weather warms up.
