I have always had great neighbors before I bought my house. I lived in apartments from the moment I started college at 18 until I started working at my company a few months ago. Even when living on the bottom floor, I never had issues with noisy neighbors upstairs, next door, nor even in floors below the few times I lived above ground level. I typically made friends with nearby tenants and in one instance lived in a community so tightly knit that cookouts and potlucks were a common occurrence from spring to early fall. With those memories fresh in my head, I was shocked the day I met my next door neighbor. I had just finished emptying the moving truck and was still in the process of unpacking and staging my house. I walked outside for a moment to water a potted plant when the neighbor walked over my tiny fence and started angrily jogging towards me. He had gaudy gold chains swinging like a pendulum across a badly sunburnt neck while his face was half swallowed by a massive pair of fake, white Oakleys sunglasses. He never introduced himself and never said hello. He proceeded to ask me if I ever intended to make any kind of noise that might annoy him. He then complained about the family that used to live in my house and how their HVAC condenser always kicked on and off throughout the day. The man likes to live out on his lanai where he chain smokes from dusk to dawn, so he rarely runs the air conditioning in his house and assumes everyone else does the same. It took only a day and a half before I found him pounding on my front door in nothing but a speedo and those comically large Oakleys. He said he kept hearing my HVAC condenser run while he sunbathed, even though it had only cycled twice in the last hour. So much for starting off on the right foot with the new neighbor.