Validation

I'm a sucker for schadenfreude - I love reading about other people's social dilemmas.  (If you read this blog, you, too, probably like to live vicariously through the shame of another)  In today's Dear Prudence column on Slate, I found a person with a problem that mirrors my own life pretty uncannily.  This past weekend, my Ron Jeremy protege neighbor went at it no less than thrice in a 16 hour span of time.  At the onset of two of those encounters, I was asleep.  Only at the onset, though, because he and his lady of the night sound like a couple of beached orcas thrashing around on a pile of slinkies.

So the question is, do I follow the advice below?  Or, slam on the ceiling with the butt of a rifle (it's been suggested to use broom or mop handle, but, despite my OCD tendencies, we have neither)?  OR, and this is the preferable option - drown out his throes of ecstasy and structure-destabilization by blasting "Hit 'Em High".  Can a sister get a copy of the Space Jam soundtrack, please.

Q. Neighbor Problem: I am a man in his 20s. I have a great life and girlfriend, and I can't think of the last time a problem truly stumped me like this one has. I live in a condominium complex and have a neighbor, "Samantha," who I am not close with but share hellos with when I see her in the elevator, hallway, etc. We both know each other's names and chat on occasion, but that is about it. Well, a few months ago I was awakened by "Samantha" to be, what sounded like, in the throes of passion in her bedroom (which is across the wall from mine). It was loud enough to wake me from a dead sleep and continued for several agonizing minutes. Now if this had been a onetime thing, I would not be writing to you, but for several months this has been happening multiple times a week anytime between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. Each time I am jolted from sleep (for it is quite a vocal performance, to say the least). Moving is out of the question, for I own my condo, and I am her only neighbor as well. Is there a way to solve this without making it any more awkward than it already is? 

A: Passionate neighbors are a perennial problem. Other readers have said that anonymous notes pushed under the door have worked wonders. Something like: "We're happy that you're having so much fun in bed, but please respect that your early morning passion is ruining the time in bed for those of us who are just sleeping. So when you go at it, please keep it down."