our neighborhood is designed such that each home is nearly atop the other. a fact that, for the past four years, seemed a necessary evil as southern california is ever the growing real estate mogul and residents insist on spreading themselves on the land at such a pace as the construction (or destruction) cannot happen fast enough. proximity has never been much of an issue, save for the poorly designed picture windows that point, immodestly, toward our neighbor's laundry room, master bedroom, and child's bedroom, where visibility is determined with respect to your location in
our hallway. it's a sad fact that one must always maintain proper attire in a house within one would hope to wander about freely, being that it is, in fact, a private residence. one day soon we hope to bolster our sense of privacy with some sort of window treatment: it might've happened sooner if one window didn't necessitate the use of an 18' tall ladder.
today, however, a rare repose at home brought forth another concern: that ghostly ability of sound to travel through walls. i recall somehow investing in extra-quiet insulation, which appears to do little or nothing to quiet the celebration in progress for their three-year-old daughter. mind you, our neighbors are dear people, kind and considerate and friendly, but like 'til tuesday, "voices carry" (at one time mistaken for "this is scary". either interpretation works in this situation). the tunnel-like space created by two homes nearly atop one another serves to amplify sound, the effect like kryptonite diminishes the sound-dampening qualities of the insulation and served only as an irritation as i attempted to do my homework. and as a deterrent when i thought about playing piano. it might've been funny to play "happy birthday". it would've been depressing to subject them to scales and the bach prelude i'd like to be practicing. i can't imagine the level of disturbance without the extra insulation.
