little drummer boy

So, I think it's safe to say that I have a pretty crappy track record with upstairs neighbors. In Nashville, my upstairs neighbor would bang on her floor (my ceiling) if I or any of my roommates used any water between the hours of 7-8:30am...which just so happens to be when 90% of America gets ready for work. I worked the night shift at the time and, without fail, right when I would fall asleep in the morning, the banging on my ceiling would begin. We actually had about 4 house meetings with her to address the 'banging', but we never got anywhere. Needless to say, she was an idiot.
Then, I moved to Seattle and had the unfortunate experience of living underneath 1 human and 2 pugs. All I heard, 24 hours a day, was the clickety clack of little pug toenails on the linoleum floor above me...and all night long the pugs would run back and forth, from one end of the apartment to the other, barking and wrestling until their owner dragged her drunk self home at 5am. I worked up the nerve and wrote a nasty note telling my neighbor that I had better things to do at 4am than listen to her pugs run around like wild banshees. Of course, I finally gave it to her a week before i moved out so it didn't do much good.
My current upstairs neighbor takes the cake. Apparently, he's learning how to play the drums. I hate to say it, but every day sounds like it's his first lesson. SJY and I were gonna give him a month before putting yellow post-it notes all over his front door with "You SUCK!" written all over them, but then we found out he was only 15 and we didn't want to be solely responsible for shattering his shalom. So now, usually about 3 or 4 days a week, we are privy to some of the most god-awful sounds that I have ever heard...the other day I think he was even playing along to a John Cougar Mellencamp song, which is just heinous in and of itself!
I'm currently home with the flu, and have not left my apartment in a few days. My whole body hurts, I'm blowing ungoldy amounts of snot out of my nose, and I'm exhausted. This afternoon Miss Dottie and I had just settled onto the couch for a little catnap, when all of a sudden...bam, chink, bam, bam, chink, thud, thud, (unrecognizable sound), bam, chink...totally ruined any chance of relaxation. The flu has turned my appearance into one that closely resembles Cruella Deville, so there was no way I was gonna go upstairs and kindly ask him to shut the f&%* up. There's no sense in traumatizing the poor kid. But I have decided that maybe the post-it notes weren't such a bad idea after all...