Rear Window

0:00:00

Ali. Keep going guys, I think Ali’s quite far away. Nearly here. I got lost on my way up. Okay. So, I love my flat, except for its window. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the window, it’s even double glazed. The problem is that it looks directly into my neighbor’s shower. This is the main window in my flat. It’s the one I face when I’m sitting on my couch, when I’m eating dinner at my table. It’s impractical to keep it covered at all times. It is unavoidable, as were they when they were showering. I’ve never met my neighbors in the building next door, but I feel they were intimately acquainted. They were either very clean or very dirty, I’m unclear which. But as far as I was concerned, at least one of them was in the shower at all times.

0:01:16

And often both of them together, having enthusiastic shower sex. I considered what to do about this. I thought I’m an adult, I should be able to work out a mature solution to this problem. We all live on the top floor of our respective buildings, and it would be perfectly reasonable for them to assume they’re in the privacy of their own home. I felt like it was my civic and neighborly duty to let them know. So I decided to go about it in the most British way possible, by writing them a very apologetic note. I started with, I’m sorry, which after several years of living in this country, I think is the best way to start a conversation with any British person.

0:02:03

So I say, dear next door neighbors, I’m so sorry for the awkwardness of this note. I just wanted to let you know that your shower window isn’t as opaque as you might think it is. Actually, it’s pretty see-through in case you wanted to get a curtain. Wishing you well, kind regards, all the best, Allie. Early the next morning, I tiptoe over to my neighbor’s flat. I’ve addressed the note to top floor flat, because I don’t know their names. I don’t even know their flat number. I put it through the mail slot, and I run back to my building. A week goes by, nothing changes. The showering and the shower sex continue apace.

0:02:50

At this point, I’m forced to conclude there’s one of two options. Option one, they read my note, and they don’t care. Option two, which seems to me far more likely, they didn’t get or didn’t read my note. I resign myself to the situation, and in the meantime, I tell everyone else in my building about it too. A couple months later, my neighbors in the flat directly below mine, Alex and Georgia, come by with some news. They tell me that the flat in the building next door is up for sale, and their friends are buying it. They’ve already told their friends about the shower window, and their friends are planning to get a curtain.

0:03:36

I’m like, amazing, what an incredible sitcom-level solution to my sitcom-level apartment problem. When are they moving in? Home sales close slowly in the UK, but several more months down the line, their friends move in. I know this not because Alex and Georgia tell me, but because one day, new people are in the shower, and they’re taller. I won’t go into too much detail, other than to say that when you are seeing people through their shower window, and they’re taller, more is available at eye level. So I go back to Alex and Georgia, I say, hey guys, I see your friends moved in, but maybe you could remind them about the shower.

0:04:28

They tell me that they’re seeing their friends for dinner in a few weeks, and they can bring it up then. In the meantime, they come over to my flat to sort out a problem we’re having in the building, just in time to see one of their friends step into the shower. Alex and Georgia press their faces to my double-glazed window. That’s peep, said Alex. That’s all of peep, said Georgia. I suggested this problem was more urgent than dinner, and maybe we could send them a text. You probably think this is where the story ends, but there’s two more twists. A few days later, I’m sitting on my couch when I see it. It is a historic day in my flat. The curtain is going up. It is like the opposite of the Berlin Wall falling.

0:05:18

I text all my friends the news. A few weeks later, Alex stops by, and he knocks on my door. He tells me that he’s been over to the friend’s for dinner, and they were looking at photos of the listing of the flat from when it was up for sale, when he noticed something odd about the kitchen. In the kitchen, you can see the fridge, and on the fridge, there is distinctly a single piece of paper. So Alex zoomed all the way in on the photo, and there, blurry but unmistakable, in all of its awkward apologetic glory, was my note. Not lost, not unread, but displayed in a place of honor for everyone to see.

0:06:11

Ali Griswold, everyone!