Talk About Going Crazy

Ever since I have lived in my apartment here in Rogers Park, a curious thing has happened on the reg. I live on the second floor, and from my bedroom, I will hear one of two things that transport me to another time and place — primarily another time — either a dial tone from a land line or the ringing of a phone. NOT the ringing of a phone like the “ring, ring, jingle, jingle” of the actual telephone. But rather, the sound the phone makes when it is ringing on *your* end, and you are waiting for someone to pick it up. The electronic ring/tone. The dull pulsing sound.

Here’s the thing. EVEN if someone had their phone on speaker, how in the FUCK would I hear that from another apartment? Cause let me tell you — I hear it. It’s loud. It’s clear as day. Do these people have their phones hooked up to surround sound turned up to 11? It’s beyond me. And it’s a regular occurrence.

Oh — the kicker? I never hear anyone talking. Nothing further. No “Hello?”s, no conversation, no laughing, no fighting, no sex talk, no whispers, no drug deals, no mob action, no “I love you”s, nothing. Just this random dial tone OR more often, this random phone ringing. Loud. What. The. Fuck.

I’ve gone on like this for a year, and never mentioned it to anyone, because, whatever. But, today? Today? You know what I hear? A typewriter. Someone using a typewriter. No joke. And for a decent amount of time. 10? 20 minutes? Is there a legit time warp right below my apartment? Have the people below me traveled back to 1988? To 1974? To 1953? What in holy hell is going on down there?

Why am I hearing super loud landline noises? What would you be using a typewriter for? Help ease my worried mind. Give me your best theories.

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