Last night, at midnight, the neighbour upstairs came home drunk and singing out loud. After half an hour of that, I went upstairs and knocked on his door to give him a piece of my mind. He didn't answer, probably because he saw it was me, but he stopped singing and went to bed. So I texted the building manager, and he told me he'll talk to him
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Intanto mi ha rovinato la nottata con quell'arrabbiatura.
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Io ce l'ho a morte con i proprietari dell'appartamento che prima lo affittano allo spacciatore casinista e ora a questo. Mi domando chi arriverà dopo...
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But seriously, the owners of that flat must be the dumbest people ever. Where do they get these guys? Did they put an ad on the newspaper?
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