Please, please, please! For the love of Sweet Gummi Mary, MAKE IT STOP!
One would prefer, when one comes home from a hard day at work, and warms up some supper in the oven while heating a bag of vegetables in the microwave, that one could enjoy some quality computer time in one's dark basement lair as a reward for contributing to society in an acceptable manner.
When one instead is treated to unsettling sound of a significant other stomping willy-nilly o'er the Mansion on legs that seeming have no feet, one grows petulant. When that significant other brings the hubbub downstairs THREE separate times, and indulges in some ritual on the other side of the wall shared by the lair and the basement workshop that sounds as if the Property Brothers are remodeling the Biltmore Estate, one contemplates one's future.
When Farmer H and I both retire in 2.5 years...somebody's gonna need a restraining order.