Goodbye, Crazy

It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in a stand-alone house.  I’m somewhat used to sharing walls and hallways with strangers of all kinds.  There have been plenty of stories, though none of them seem particularly memorably right now.  But why do so many people play loud techno on Saturday mornings?

Anyway.  The people in the apartment next door don’t get along very well.  I base this judgment on the number of yelling matches I’ve overheard and the volume at which said matches occur.  About a week ago I woke up at 2am to horror-movie-worthy screams in the hallway.  There are door slams and fights that continue into chase scenes down the hall.

And then there’s the weed.  I’m about as laissez-faire as it gets: I couldn’t care less what anyone does in the privacy of their own home.  But when the elevators in my building open on my floor, I can tell by the smell whether my neighbors are entertaining.  Apparently, good hosts provide copious amounts of pot.  Apologies to all of the people who have left my home disappointed by my lack of hospitality.

As I left this morning, I almost tripped over the movers taking the neighbors' boxes out of the apartment.  I have no idea if they will be moving to one location together or going their separate ways.  All I know is that I breathed a great big sigh of relief.

Can’t say I’m gonna miss you.