Quiet.

My husband and I are preparing to make an unexpected move from Brooklyn into Manhattan and we have way too much stuff. I've packed my books into 33 boxes. I haven't even started on the DVDs and videos. I keep asking myself why we have so many movies on VHS. DVDs are so much easier to deal with. Sure, we had no idea DVDs would exist when we were buying videos, but...why do two people need two copies of Q&A on video? I didn't even like the movie!

My husband has lived in this two-bedroom Park Slope rental for 15 years. I've lived here for 9. Yeah, that's a long time. Too long. It's funny how that looks good to management companies when you're looking for a new home to rent, but terrible when you tell it to people in a social setting. Same place for 15 years? Where's your sense of adventure?

We've never lived anywhere else as a couple. That's because the rent was cheap and we couldn't stand the thought of leaving a small two-bedroom apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn to pay triple the amount for an even smaller one-bedroom somewhere else.

But here's my new favorite phrase: Peace of mind is more important than price of apartment.

We've never loved our upstairs neighbor. She's never loved us. Every year I lived there has been uncomfotable, awkward, downright unpleasant. She's been renovating her duplex since May. About three weeks ago we noticed brown stains on one of the walls in our apartment. We mentioned it to her contractor and a couple days later he came down to have a look. Immediately he said he thought it was her toilet.

Toilet? How can that be, we said. Her toilet's on the opposite side of the room, directly above our bathroom.

Oh no, he said. We moved the toilet here, directly above your washer/dryer unit.

And the kicker?

The contractor admitted he hadn't used a plumber to do the job.

This guy, he said. He didn't know what he was doing, you know? He maybe put the pipes in wrong and everytime she flush it come down.

So the brown stains?

Yes, he said. I sorry. We come back to make sure.

He didn't come back. Two days later we called our neighbor to ask what was going on. She said her contractor wasn't sure what the problem was, but he didn't think it was her toilet. She was sure one of our pipes broke and it had nothing to do with her renovation.

We took pictures. My husband brought the pictures up to her. Her contractor returned two days later with a friend. Without warning, this friend climbed up on my washing machine and I said, panicked, Are you breaking the ceiling? Should a move everything out of the way?

Uh, yeah, you better move your stuff out of the way.

I started moving stuff and he started breaking the ceiling. In a matter of seconds, stuff started gushing down on him and he started cursing. Stuff, actually, is putting it kindly. It was my upstairs neighbor's shit.

You got a bucket or something? the guy said. He was angry. I got him a bucket and he used it to catch the shit.

Shit.

My husband came home in the middle of this and we started asking questions. It was the toilet. And they would fix it. In a week. First they had to let the wall dry. And then they'd tear it all down and rebuild it. And then they left.

This happened that very hot week in July and it wasn't until the men left that we realized we'd be stuck with an open ceiling, dripping sewage, during a heatwave. We went to Lowes at 10pm to replace the bucket and buy cleaning supplies. We ran into our upstairs neighbor on our way back and told her she'd have to pay for everything. She freaked out, telling us we weren't handling the situation well - that we should be nicer about it. I should point out that we weren't being mean about it, but our neighbor has control issues and telling her she had to do something really set her off.

After the argument, I looked at my husband with a look that said I've had enough.

So we're moving.