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The garbage disposal is broken and I'm too nice to call maintenance after Jason made the poor guy "fix" our air conditioner (which wasn't really broken).
The car accident that involved a small compact car driven by a drunk. It whipped into the parking lot at 9:30pm Sunday night and plowed over two large, extended cab pickup trucks.
The two police cars outside my apartment this morning that eventually turned into two police cars an a crime scene van. They were dusting a truck for fingerprints. Apparently the CD player was stolen and someone had attempted to drive away with the truck itself.
The inebriated individuals staggering to their apartment at two o'clock on a Sunday morning.
The happy couple across the street that like to open their windows and play shitty music for everyone to hear.
The people who live downstairs who like to smoke outside and let it drift up into my apartment when I leave the windows open.
The weird ladies that live next door who simply grunt at me when I say hello.
That fact that my large, expensive apartment shares a wall with the tiny, cheap apartment that usually houses someone with an unstable job and a mob of friends who like to come over to drink because they don't actually work.
The cotton trees that have been planted everywhere on the grounds. Their pods open and suddenly you can't breathe for all the cotton floating around in the air.
My car being broken into once, my tire being flatted once, Jason's car being broken into twice, and his gas being siphoned out once in the two years that we've been living in this apartment.
( more rambling about housing )
The car accident that involved a small compact car driven by a drunk. It whipped into the parking lot at 9:30pm Sunday night and plowed over two large, extended cab pickup trucks.
The two police cars outside my apartment this morning that eventually turned into two police cars an a crime scene van. They were dusting a truck for fingerprints. Apparently the CD player was stolen and someone had attempted to drive away with the truck itself.
The inebriated individuals staggering to their apartment at two o'clock on a Sunday morning.
The happy couple across the street that like to open their windows and play shitty music for everyone to hear.
The people who live downstairs who like to smoke outside and let it drift up into my apartment when I leave the windows open.
The weird ladies that live next door who simply grunt at me when I say hello.
That fact that my large, expensive apartment shares a wall with the tiny, cheap apartment that usually houses someone with an unstable job and a mob of friends who like to come over to drink because they don't actually work.
The cotton trees that have been planted everywhere on the grounds. Their pods open and suddenly you can't breathe for all the cotton floating around in the air.
My car being broken into once, my tire being flatted once, Jason's car being broken into twice, and his gas being siphoned out once in the two years that we've been living in this apartment.
( more rambling about housing )
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