I lived in a fourth floor apartment near two, count 'em two churches with bells. When I first moved there, I said it was like rooming with Quasimodo. By the time I moved out, I didn't hear them. I moved out of the building, because of a nut job neighbor who gave me all kinds of insane grief, played cat and mouse games, and liked to show up as I was coming out of the shower. I do not miss that loon.

The old gent who lives next door to me, likes to call the police. He has trouble backing up his minivan. (I learned that the hard way, after he did in my front bumper.) If you park too close to his rear bumper, he'll call the cops. (As I live in a small community they come.) He called them and got my boyfriend and me out of bed one night so my boyfriend could move his car.