Ever since I moved to New York, I have heard about housing nightmares – those tales of evictions, leaks and tenant harassment. But I never expected that I would become part of one, and that it would involve chamber music. Or that it would happen because we were, well, playing out of tune.

Let me explain.

In the 2000s, I was in a quartet that met on Thursday nights. We would show up at Marion’s apartment at 7 p.m., run through a couple quartets, and finish up at 9 p.m. — enough time for chit chat and a snack. This is not the kind of behavior that irks neighbors.

At least that’s what we thought until one Thursday we heard a knock at the door. Marion greeted her visitor, had a brief conversation, and sat back down. She shook her head.

“Unbelievable,” she said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“That was my neighbor. She told me we had to stop playing.”

“Why?”

“She said she went to Juilliard and has perfect pitch. She said she can’t listen to us play.”

Now, dear reader, I did not hear what Marion told her neighbor. But I do know that Marion, a polite New Yorker, can be quite direct when she needs to be.

We finished up our session that night and kept meeting.

Some weeks later, Marion received a letter. It was from the building’s managing agent and threatened Marion with eviction if she did not stop playing string quartets. It did not seem to matter that the law, let alone building policy, allowed us to play quartets during those hours. It’s not as if we were churning out Metallica at 2 a.m.

You can imagine how this played out. Marion fought the case. Thousands of dollars went from her bank account to lawyers, consultants and engineers.

It should be noted that Marion is not a private equity titan. She is a therapist, helping people deal with mental health issues. (Like, maybe, dealing with irrational neighbors?)

As the trial date approached–yes, this case was going to trial–Marion’s lawyer came to one of our Thursday sessions. He coached us on what to say, and what not to say.

“Don’t say you are practicing,” the lawyer told us. “Say you are playing. Otherwise, that suggests a commercial activity is taking place in the apartment, which is not allowed.”

I could only wonder who on this planet would pay to listen to us.

“I don’t make the law,” he said.

As the lawyer talked, I couldn’t get past the neighbor’s line about having perfect pitch.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Is Marion going through all this because we played out of tune?”

I thought it was a reasonable question. I forget what the lawyer said.

But let’s say that was the case. I thought of two possible defenses.

Maybe we were playing Mozart’s Dissonant quartet. It has that wacko opening that sounds completely off key. Don’t go after Marion, go after Mozart!

But then I came to accept that maybe we didn’t hit every note exactly as intended. Someone suggested to me that perhaps if I had practiced my scales and arpeggios more, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Good point!

Which brings us back to Marion and her court case. We were set to testify. The lawyer had us ready — we were playing, not practicing; we always ended by 9 p.m. I couldn’t wait. My “Law & Order” moment!

But the day before the trial, the neighbor dropped the case. Poof, that was it. Then the neighbor moved out. Maybe she couldn’t take it anymore. Today, our Thursday quartet continues. And I’m working on my scales.