Moving Furniture

This gripe is really aimed only at those poor souls who have someone living on their head - an apartment building.

OK - it’s no big deal really - BUT IT REALLY PISSES ME OFF!!!!! when I'm relaxing at home, watching the box, listening to music, having a cup of tea (yes I'm English by birth) or just scratching some random part of my body as we men so often do, when, suddenly, without warning, I'm subjected to the raucous grinding of chair legs or the dining table being dragged across the floor by the upstairs neighbour. 
Now I know, they have to move their furniture to clean and so forth, but why for heaven’s sake, do they always choose to do so just when I'm relaxing and relishing, finally, in a little bit of peace and quiet. Often I wonder if they have installed spy cameras in the ceiling so that they can start moving operations just when my eyes start to droop and I start to snore. Maybe there is a Quisling, a 5th column in my own house, an informer who instantly lets them know when to let rip?  Maybe their kid is telepathic and listening to my mind (what little there is left of it)?
To be honest, I don't know what to do! The simplest and obvious solution would be talk to them and ask them to put sliders on their furniture - I'd even buy the sliders! But that's too logical, reasonable and sensible. I am, after all, a grumpy old man, so why take the easy, human and neighbourly way out. No, why should I? Next time they start shifting, I'll put on some Led Zeppelin at full volume so I won’t hear their noise. Maybe I'll sneak in one day when nobody is in, soak their furniture in an inflammable but odourless substance so that the friction will make the table spontaneously combust the next time they dare drag it across my ceiling? I could, I suppose, use some fantastically advanced adhesive and glue the stuff to the floor? 
Then again, we all know what I'll do - nothing! Let’s face it, if I solve the problem in some way, I'll have nothing to complain about, nothing to be grumpy about - and then what will I do for fun? No, I'll just carry on as before - pacing the floor, muttering under my breath about "inconsiderate neighbours" and "the youth of today" and "In my day...." Occasionally I'll go and complain to the wife who will, wisely, agree with a slight nod of her head to get me to shut up and leave her alone as quickly as possible. In the long run, I shall suffer as a true martyr should - quietly whilst making sure that everyone knows how much I suffer and what a wretched soul I am.
Have a nice day (More about that in a later post)