In Italy, walls are thin. It's just one of those things, like how they don't use heat as much, and nobody has a dryer, and you don't drink milk in the afternoon.
When I was living in Isola, the vicino di casa added some charm. He was, as Carlotta so endearingly called him, "un nerd ...carino, però". I could hear him playing endless hours of Mario Kart, crying on the phone to his girlfriend, and singing with his karaoke machine (he favored Lady Gaga).
However, with my newest apartment ... I just don't know how much more I can take. Whoever the family is, they have an awful child. The child is constantly screaming and crying, and not in a necessary way. This ragazzaccio also bangs on the piano, when he/she is not playing "The Way You Look Tonight" over and over. Amidst all this is the constant cry of the mother: "BASTA!!!"
I'm sorry if I'm ranting; usually i ragazzini italiani are just about the cutest things ever. But really, a lonely americana with lots of compiti da corregere can only take so much.
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