So I will preface this post by saying that Dan and I realize we are supposed to be mature 30 year olds who do not start getting all grade 7 "Oh my god! Listen to that! They're having s-x!" when hearing our neighbours. We realize we're supposed to be mature, but we're not.
We totally get all grade 7.
So a few times Dan has come home after work and mentioned that when passing by a neighbouring apartment complex, there are a lot of shrieks and cries and Rated R sounds coming from an open first floor window. Then we giggle about it because we aren't mature.
So this afternoon we were returning from an amazing day in Bern wherein I scored the deal of a lifetime (details to come, though don't get too excited. It's not like I encountered a lady giving away free Bernese Mountain Dog puppies because that would have been the deal of seven lifetimes and I'd be in hospital right now because I would have passed out from sheer joy and probably got run over by a tram), and as we were passing the aforementioned apartment complex I was chattering away about something when Dan stopped dead in his tracks and put his finger to his lips, announcing I was to be quiet.
And that's when I too finally heard her: Mrs. First Floor Fornicator filling the Saturday afternoon with her amorous bellows.
"Holy crap," I whispered, "she could be in yodelling contests!"
Then Dan started laughing and we ran up the stairs to our building, making jokes at her expense because we are juvenile.
"Dan, her windows are wide open! She wants people to know, she does! Oh my god! I mean, she's right across from the apartment playground; kids could swing into her window. Can you even imagine the passive aggressive notes that must get left on her door? Please lower the decibel on the cries of your coupling. We have children who are asking questions and are concerned if you're hurt. Friendly Greetings, your annoyed Swiss neighbour."
Then Dan told the joke of a lifetime. The joke that has proven why we are married.
"I know why she always at it in the afternoon."
"Because she has to comply with Switzerland's apartment noise rules: no vacuuming, no showering, and no howling after 8 p.m."
Then I collapsed against the side of our building and choked on my laughter, while Mrs. First Floor Fornicator's neighbour stood on her balcony with a shop vac and a scowl on her face, vacuuming up leaf debris and trying to drown out the shrieks.
You just never now what's going to happen when you wake up in the morning. Happy Saturday, everyone.