Okay maybe it wasn't an elephant, but it sounded like my upstairs neighbors were moving furniture around, and banging on chairs, and making weird noises. I swear.
The floor thud was just deafening and I was trying to sleep. But, what was I to do? It was New Year's Eve. How could I ruin someone else's party? (Loosely defined, of course).
But I was tired, restless and long suffering - I had watched that ball drop again and again from Times Square and I quite simply could no longer stand the ever-smiling Ryan Seacrest without getting grumpy.
Here was my dilemma. I had no idea who my upstairs neighbors were. Not a clue. And as hard as it was, I came to the decision to put sleep over my dignity. Affability. Likability. I needed my z's.
So, I put on my pink robe, covered up my pink pajamas, and left on my pink socks, opened my door, and walked upstairs. Softly.
With every brave bone in my body, I knocked on my neighbor's door. I was so scared - what if they got angry, or scared that they heard a knock at 2 am? To my delight, these two surprised, but really smiley, nice women answered the door. Thank god.