Joys of Apartment Life

Unfortunately, the fact I live in an apartment only means I have to not only deal with my life, but also the lives of the people beside and below me. I didn't realize how good I had things last summer. The guy who used to live below me was always at his girlfriend's place. Beside me to the left was a guy who went away on business for weeks and months at time. I didn't even realize someone lived in that apartment until two months after I moved in. The only issue I had in all directions was Apartment 5. 

Apartment 5 was nice and all. In fact, I think he might have a little crush on me. He isn't even that annoying, unless he pulls out his guitar and decides to pretend he's actually an accomplished singer at random hours of the night, usually between 1 A.M. and 5 A.M. I have only ever been woken up by this once or twice, so for the most part, I had a quiet life.

About six months ago, the dawn of a new age of noise came upon me like a colossal wave of annoyance. Apartment 1 was vacated by Mr. On-The-Go Engineer and in his place arrived Andy. I can't even really think of a nickname for Andy, so I'm just going to use his real name. How to describe Andy? Imagine if Mr. Clean (the annoying side) and Conan O'Brien (the unfunny side) mated and produced a child. Now imagine this child with a drinking and drug problem.

Andy moved into the apartment because he was going through a custody hearing/divorce via webcam and needed to get a break from life. He's constantly drugged out. Awkward. No social skills. And LOUDER than anything I've ever heard in my life. He also LOVES to play Guitar Hero until 7 A.M., and then proceeds to sleep all day when everyone else has to work because he has no job or responsibilities.

Apartment 3 also got new occupants. A girl and her boyfriend. They never, ever stop fighting. The walls are so thin here that I can hear everything that goes on in their life. I hear when their fights begin, what they fight about, when their fights end, when they stop fighting long enough to have sex, and when they fight some more. They once had a three hour argument over microwaveable rice. No kidding. I often have to leave the apartment and go see a movie at the theatre down the road just to get away from it all. They are constantly breaking up, and he'll move out for a few days. Once for a week. Yesterday, he moved out again, but I hear her being overly dramatic about something, so I'm assuming they are trying to "work things out". Let's hope they don't.

Apartment 5, who was originally bearable, is now becoming a little too dramatic for my liking. He's recently let his nineteen year old son and his son's sixteen year old girlfriend move in with him. At first, I thought they were visiting, but they've been here for well over a month now. It doesn't make sense either. These are one bedroom apartments. Where can three people sleep? Much less a dad and his young adult son/girlfriend. Everything became a little too much for me when I'm minding my own business outside, and the nineteen year old son comes out crying. I tried to avoid eye contact at first because it was just too awkward, but finally he asked if he could get advice. Apparently, the kiddos had a fight and the girlfriend broke a mirror in attempts to slit her wrists with or threaten to at least if he left her. He was wondering if that was normal, and if he should break up with her or still marry her? 

*stare*

I wondered for a few seconds if the question was rhetorical, but he seriously seemed clueless. I told him that's not healthy, things won't get better with marriage, and that if she truly wants to harm herself, she needs immediate medical attention/counseling/medication and to call 911. My advice went unheard I suppose because they were still holding hands the next day.

Apartment drama. I texted a neighbor friend of mine the other night to come out during the mirror breaking incident. She was stating how she was watching the Mob Wives. I just said in return:

"Why are you watching that when we have enough drama to last us for our lives in our parking lot? And, it's free."

It makes me grateful for the little time that I did spend in my oblivious, quiet, cozy apartment, enjoying the drama-free environment around me. Now it's like I live in a more trashier version of Melrose Place, and instead of skinny, beautiful people, we have what seems like a genetic mutation of Mr. Clean and my obese ass as the cast of characters. Speaking of which, it's about time I take my happy self to Gold's Gym.