We live in a nice two-bedroom apartment in a house with 2 other apartments. The neighborhood 10 minutes away from us (towards NY) is nice, our neighborhood includes low income housing and rap being played all day every day, be it in houses next to our or in passing cars. We do have a middle school next to ours but I have never seen any kids older then 5. So we live on the first floor with neighbors above and below. The floors and walls are paper-thin so it is basically like living with all of these people in one apartment. The people above are moving to Florida this very morning while the lady below has lived here for 15 years and will continue to do so until someone finds her dead or she burns the house down.
I am thrilled that the people above with their stupid un-de-clawed dog are leaving but at the same time I am a bit apprehensive about who will move in. If the dog people were and evil I knew (oh yes moving furniture at 2 am IS evil) then my new neighbors are an evil I don’t know. Hopefully the apartment will stay vacant for months and then an old lady will move in who will be quieter then a mouse (but please god no walkers).
Now on to the lady below, call her Mrs. R (although I have never seen a husband and I don’t think there is one), she is a bitch. Now take this with a grain of salt because actually she has done really nothing BAD to us just a lot of very annoying stuff. Major offence is that she is a rumored alcoholic and smokes. She also hogs the space we are supposed to share in the basement, and because she smokes the whole basement stinks and I have to pad the crack between the basement door and the basement stairs so that our apt. doesn’t stink. Of course she listens to opera on Sunday afternoons, loud enough for me to hear every word, and some R&B every other day just as loud. She also hosts parties, but because she has a small apartment they all sit outside under Baby V’s window and laugh, yell, clap, and holler till midnight or later. I think she thinks this is payback for us using an office chair on wheels. Oh and the police have talked to me twice about her, actually asking for ID to make sure I wasn’t her. And one more thing, she hangs her laundry on a clothesline attached to OUR back porch, so she just walks right up on our tiny deck and hangs her shorts, pants, tank tops, sheets so that all I see out of the window is her stuff and not the nice green trees and scampering squirrels. So even though she might be perfectly nice on closer acquaintance, I hate her.
The End.
Love,
Me