Dear Mr. Garbage Man,
I appreciate what you do. Truly, I do. However, you are driving me to distraction (not in a good way). Your work is a tad loud. Much like an atomic explosion caused by an earthquake in the middle of a thunderstorm. Also, that vehicle of yours makes my apartment shake. I worry that my picture on the wall may be in danger of falling. How is it that I’m always at home whenever you come around? Maybe we could work something out. Perhaps you could come when I have class? Or at least only come in the afternoons?
Sincerely,
Me.
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