HILLY: But then there have been all these other things, adding to the anxiety and pressure, and one of the things is, we have these little neighbors that are unbelievable, I mean it’s like Sanford and Son moved to the Upper West Side. Their backyard—if you look out our window, every single backyard in the entire block is so manicured and just perfect and quiet and lovely. In their yard, it looks like a junkyard. And to make matters worse, they built this trampoline, and they jump and jump ….
GEORGE: They set it up one night at 1 a.m. They’re sort of hippies.
HILLY: And since the weather has gotten nicer, it’s every single day they’re out there, and they’re having, like, a love-in, with music playing and chain-smoking and drinking beer ….
GEORGE: The smells waft up into her room, and they’ll wake her up at 8 o’clock on a Sunday morning. We’ve called the police.
DR. SELMAN: Eventually one of them is going to be injured on the trampoline.
HILLY: That’s what we were hoping.
GEORGE: People are filing in and out of that apartment to jump on it. It’s like a dormitory. Every time we look outside, there are little kids flying up in the air.
HILLY: And the best is, right up to the side of the trampoline, they have a big sheet of glass. It’s like they are begging for someone to slip on the trampoline, fall in the glass and shatter—
DR. SELMAN: What happened to all of the anger and the Effexor and all of that?
GEORGE: We’ll come back to that. The other weekend, I heard this dog barking out back—driving me crazy. I didn’t know where it was coming from, so I stuck my head out the window and saw that it was the trampoline people’s backyard. So I screamed, “Oh, what a big surprise that you people would leave a dog barking outside! I’m so shocked!” And then I started chanting “Ass-holes! Asssssss-hooooooles!”
HILLY: Well, they deserve that. Every time I come back to the apartment, especially because George is always there and because he’s ill and trying to recuperate—it’s like walking into a den of curmudgeon-ness. I don’t know if that’s even a word. The poor guy—not only is he cranky, he’s depressed.
GEORGE: You know those neighbors actually seem pretty cool, like they’d be fun to hang out with.