So Long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodnight

Well, February, you were the best of times, you were the worst of times.

You brought epic amounts of snow to my little patch of home. You caused me to eat much more than I thought humanly possible. Your winds shook my apartment, rattled my little car and whipped through me as I headed off somewhere to eat or sleep.I reached a level in my Seasonal Affective Disorder that I didn't know existed. February, you were brutal.

However, there were some bright spots. You did bring back the return of my much awaited Lost. I did have good music this month – Sade and Corinne Bailey Rae. And some of your epic snowstorms actually prevented me from going to work on days when I really didn’t want to go. For that, February, I thank you.

But I do think my biggest accomplishment this month is the new lease I signed on my apartment complex. Now, I no longer have a yearlong commitment to the lovely people who run my complex. That means, for a rent increase of nearly $40, I am on a month to month policy. I can give these mofos .. errr, lovely people, a two month notice on when I’m vacaating the premises and they can like it or lump it. This simple move is one of the many steps I’ve taken toward homeownership. I checked out a pile of library books on the subject – I’ll get to them after my exam this weekend – and I’m signing up for weekly homeownership classes that meet Wednesday evenings this month. Good times.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I’ll miss about my apartment building. We’ve been together since 2006. Hanging tough. I like the fact that maintenance can come and fix any serious problems (albeit leave the door unlocked when they do). I like that my neighbor’s 5-year-old daughter feels comfortable enough with me that she can bang on my door when no one answers the door at her place. I can enjoy the soothing sounds of my upstairs neighbor’s snoring and constant passion with his woman, almost as much as I enjoy his coming downstairs to to tell me when my music or television is too loud. I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel for that person/people who smokes on the steps, goes through my newspaper and tosses it around, or leaves our conrolled entrance door unlocked so that the entire town can come in and have a good time.

So, dear February, it’s been real. But like with my current place of residence, it is time to say goodbye.

Photo from http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/0f/39/c2/lawn-in-winter.jpg

Picket Fences

There is nothing that has increased my need for a new house like my neighbors. I may have written about the people I've been forced to live around a time or twenty and while it mostly seemed like an exaggeration, trust, it was not.







My main annoyance these days has been the people who live below me. We have thin walls, very thin, and I can hear everything. EVERYTHING. The cast of characters beneath my feet include a middle-aged woman, her 20-something year old daughter, and the daughter's three young children.







Now, let me say first that the three kids -- two girls and a boy -- are adorable. The sweetest little things. But when I'm inside my apartment, all I hear is Grandma yelling at them. "PUT THAT DOWN!" "LET HER GO!" "DON'T MAKE ME GO OVER THERE!" The screams are followed by subsequent slaps and tears. I mean, I'm not saying the kid didn't deserve it, but honestly.... do I need to hear all that? The funny thing is, I never hear the daughter say anything to them kids. I guess she figures she's go it made with Mom watching over anything.







I figured out the daugther's thing when I made the mistake of calling in sick to work a few Mondays ago. I was resting comfortably in my bed, watching Regis & Kelly, when I hear loud moans and groans coming from beneath me. Obviously, this is sex. But it's not like it's the kind of sex that makes me jealous, it's the kind that sounds very painful and frightening. Honestly, I thought that chick was giving birth. That was the loudest five minutes of my life. And don't even get me started on how she plays Bobby Brown's "Tenderoni" nonstop.







All of that was fine, really -- I mean, I was able to cope with it. But I reached my breaking point the other day. It was around midnight and I was about to get into my bed when I was able to hear the television from below my feet. Again, this doesn't bother me so much, since I know how thin our walls/ceilings/floors are. The problem came when I realized what she was watching. 'MASH.' I've never watched this award-winning TV show and there's a reason why: The theme song makes me nauseous and immensely depressed. I mean really: duh duh duh duh duh dooo, duh duh duh duh duh doo, duh duh duh duh duh dooo....ARGH!!! I hate it. Gives me a migraine like you wouldn't believe.







I've talked to other people about this theme song and I learned that I'm not the only one who feels this way. After all, the song is called 'Suicide is Painless.' Yuck. I hate it. Anyway, I was already in the early phases of starting the homebuying process, but that situation right there lit a fire under my arse like you wouldn't believe. All I want is to be in a place where I can walk upstairs and downstairs and not look at anyone I don't know. I want a garden, a driveway, a fireplace and a laundry room that's just for me. And most importantly, I want the bigger tax refund that doesn't come to us renters. Sigh. I'll get there .... one day.

(Image from http://www.jjcafe.net/photography/weekends/House/frontpage.jpg)

The Shoe

I was reunited with an old friend this weekend. I wouldn't call her a friend actually, just someone from my childhood. She moved into my apartment building not too long ago and although she reminded me of someone, it didn't occur to me until today who she is.

My neighbor is the Woman Who Lives in a Shoe. You know her? She had so many children she didn't know what to do? Yeah, try having her as a neighbor.

Ever since she moved in, I've been greeted with the pleasant sounds of her screaming at a child or a child screaming at her. It's not unusual for me to hear a succession of smacks prior to the screams, followed by the mother shouting various threats. "I told you to stop!!" "Give her the phone!" "I don't want to hear it!"

I often wondered how many children she had. I do know that there is a Jayla, because every morning someone is either shouting her name or singing it. There is also a Deja; I know this for the same reason. But today I looked out my window and saw that her children are finally where they belong -- outside. (But I can still hear them as if they're inside my apartment). I counted four kids -- three young girls, a boy and a teenage girl. I'm sure there's still an infant or two around.

Oh, the youth. How I love them. And pretty soon I'll be even closer to this brood when I go outside to take out my trash. Can't wait!

(Photo courtesy of http://images.wikia.com/muppet/images/c/cb/Rheaperlman.jpg)

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.