My roommate and I snagged a nice apartment near the Victorian Village. It’s the bottom half of a two-story house, hardwood floors, fireplace, porch, just the right size for the two of us.

But then there are the upstairs neighbors.

At least once a week like clockwork, I lay my worried brow down to sleep only to be awakened by a disastrous sound seeping through the ceiling:

“…But it ain’t no lie, baby BYE, BYE, BYE!”

Let’s not be hasty here, I like ‘N Sync as much as the next guy – which is to say I loathe ‘N Sync. I loathe them even more at 1 a.m. And maybe if it were just the music keeping me awake I could learn to cope with it. The problem lies in the fact that it sounds like they’re throwing a dance party to it. All sorts of stomping, bumps, bangs and giggling fill my once quiet, sleep-ready room.

How could it get any worse?

The neighbors also have a dog that just loves to get into their little dance party too. As it runs around the floor, biting at their heels and yelping to its heart’s content, I can only hope it’s trying to tell them to stop their nonsense, for the love of all things holy, stop. Just stop. So not only do I have blaring, sub-mediocre pop music pulsing through the floor and the stomping of feet, but also the incessant clicking of dog claws.

Just recently the neighbors have taken up vacuuming late at night. In the darkness of my room all I hear is the high-pitched whirring and rolling of plastic wheels across the wood above me.

Maybe I’m naive, maybe dancing to ‘N Sync and vacuuming in the wee hours of the morning is the cool thing to do. Either way, it seems rather rude and I’m beginning to lose sleep.

I knew this place was too good to be true.

In all reality, it doesn’t take much to be a good neighbor. All it takes is a little awareness and consideration. When you’re banging on your snare drum, pounding a nail in the wall, or vacuuming at midnight, take a second and think about how it may sound to the apartments around you. Perhaps ask if it’s bothering them.

It doesn’t matter how thick your walls are, sooner or later sounds are going to float through. If it continues, just go talk to them about it, don’t retaliate by banging on the walls or blaring your music back at them.

We’ve tried to do the neighborly thing. We asked them to try to keep it down on weeknights after midnight, and it worked for a while. We were living in a sort of harmony. But eventually, they seemed to forget our conversation and now here we are with the ‘N Sync dance extravaganzas.

I suppose we haven’t been the best neighbors either. One morning, after a long and noisy dance/vacuuming party on their part the night before, I slipped and decided to be immature. Somewhere around 8 a.m. I decided to blast the soothing sounds of Boris, a Japanese metal band. As the guitars squealed and the distortion coursed through my veins, I hoped they were up there in bed, pillows wrapped around their ears to try and block out the sounds. I hoped maybe they would get a hint, maybe take it down a few notches. Sadly, just a few days later they were back to stomping around and listening to boy bands.

When it all boils down, the glaring fact is that we’re all in college, a time of excitement but also a time to learn some maturity. I understand that university life must be a very fun, sexy time for my neighbors, but please, grow up a little bit. Or at least just be quieter.

Maybe if it weren’t ‘N Sync, things would be better. If they were playing Daft Punk or Justice and offered me a couple beers I’d be up there dancing my heart out with the best of them.

Ye, I don’t see that happening, so I’m going to stick to my earplugs and hope for the best.

Chad Rutan can be reached at [email protected].