One of the reasons our rent is so wonderfully low is that our place is rather shoddily constructed. That is, the walls are extremely thin. So when you stand on your deck at 9:30 in the morning on Memorial Day, I can hear every second of your cell-phone conversation. I'm sorry you got wasted and started picking fights in West Virginia. I'm sorry that your friends are giving you a hard time for it. I hope your father/mother/whoever you're talking to is sympathetic, because I certainly am not.
In addition to early morning ranting, you have the bass up far too high. I don't have a massaging desk chair, but thanks to you it sometimes vibrates. By the way, Beyonce's repertoire includes more than "If I were a Boy." Thanks for ruining that song - sometimes I hear the buuum, ba-bumm, bummm, ba-bumm bass line in my sleep. Maybe because you're playing it.
And quit sunbathing in the yard. Your bathing suit, or lack thereof, is annoying.
I'm debating whether or not to confront you about this, given that we have to live next to each other for about three more weeks. If your phone conversations don't get more interesting, I think I will.