Sunday Morning

Apparently, God is trying to tell me something. I haven't been to church in months and I've pretty much given up on looking for a church home. That means I either spend Sunday morning sleeping in or working out. Lately, it's been more of the former than the latter. Nowadays, even sleep has gone by the wayside because of my lovely neighbors. They are very different from the people I lived with in my previous apartment, but they have their own set of issues here.

I live on the second floor, sandwiched between 'Officer Jaheim' and Martin and Gina. Officer Jaheim got his monicker because he is a police officer and often plays Jaheim cd #1 constantly, particularly his song, "Anything." I once loved that song, until I heard it repeatedly come from his apartment. Martin and Gina are the young couple who live above me and I have the pleasure of listening to their trials and tribulations. The most interesting was when they had an argument about his cooking and he told her to "put some ketchup on it and shut the f*** up." There were shouts, slammed doors, and then the bed squeaking.

These days, the party gets started on Sundays... at 8 a.m. to be exact. Last week, I had a friend in town when Officer Jaheim and his entourage decided they wanted to blast their music at 7:45 a.m. I woke to a loud wordless song with a beat that sounded like 'boom diddity boom boom boom diddy boom.' was pissed, so I ripped off my red scarf and let my little locks flow. I knocked on their door looking my worse -- pj's, robe, glasses and morning breath. A boy answered the door and I politely asked him to turn the music down. You know what he said? "Oh, that's my mom. I'll tell her." His mom??!!!! Sheesh.

She turned it down and I went back to sleep, for a little while. An hour or so later, she decided she wanted to sing a lullaby to the baby. Do you know what lullaby she sang? "Lean wit it, Rock wit it." All I heard was a repeated chant of "lean wit it, rock wit it lean with it, rock wit it lean wit it rock wit it lean wit it rock wit it" over and over in her poor attempt at a whisper. This is going on at the same time that Martin and Gina decide they love each other and start making their own music on that broken down bed of theirs.

This morning it was more of the same, but I had to wake up early anyway. This time, Officer Jaheim's teenage daughter was playing what sounded like Kelis' new cd. I was torn between asking her to turn it down and asking her to burn me a copy. So I decided on nothing and went about my business.

Our walls are thin, so I can't easily escape the sounds of the neighbors. Since Sunday is such a happening day in our building, maybe I'll run to church next week. Then I need to run to a realtor and see about buying a house. This apartment living thing has run its course in my life.