End of Terrace Victorian Victorian property converted into two flats, I’m on ground floor. Upstairs has 3 children 1-11 the noise from that is a whole other thread.
What’s really getting to be at the moment is the constant praying/chanting/pastor sessions (online) at 11pm on the dot since Easter Sunday. Frigging sick and tired of listening to it and the 6:45am Sunday wake up and what I’m guessing is pre-church family LOUD prayer session, then 20min of shrieking kids In the shared hall way that’s backed into my bedroom.
It’s constant and relentless, droning monotone voices, deliverance from the depths of hell? They’ll need saving from the depths of my damn shredded nerves before that.
I’m so so tired.
Every Saturday night I’m kept awake by late night cooking and filled with dread as I count down the hours to following morning.
39+4 weeks pregnant and at my wits end.
Yes I’ve spoken to them.
Yes I’ve reported.
Yes I’ve BEGGED for some peace.
No can’t move out.
No have nowhere else to stay.
Yes I’m crying desperately as I’m petrified already of the sleep deprivation to come coupled with knowing I’ve got these inconsiderate arseholes upstairs.