And no, on this one occasion, I am not talking about my hair complex. I’m talking about my apartment complex. Here is a list of all the reasons that I am counting down the days until we are no longer residents of an apartment community:

1. I’m all about dogs and everything, but those that howl and snap at my sweet Lola when I go to get the mail can be eliminated.

2. Speaking of the mail, I would rather not strike up a conversation about your shattered cheekbone while I’m trying to mentally tally my bills that I just plucked from my mail slot, sir.  And even though I’m sure it was an impressive story of testosterone and fury in the form of a bar fight over a bleached out, fake-tittied has-been, I’m not going to ask you to elaborate.  Oh, and thanks for saying you like my wiener. That’s such a hot pick up line around these parts.  Also, when you ask me which apartment I live in and I say that my HUSBAND (bold, capital, italicized and underlined!) and I live in THAT GENERAL VICINITY OVER THERE (while I wave my arms 360 degrees around my body), that would be your hint to back off.  I will blame your ignorance on the fact that you quite possibly have shards of your cheekbone wedged into your cerebral cortex, which if I am not horribly mistaken, is a critical piece of tissue  necessary for THINKING!

3.  DJ Casanova. Uh, yeah. That’s my neighbor. And he apparently LOVES to act like his pimped out Jeep is a turntable at around 2 am when he rolls in from hustlin’ hoes up in da club.

4. Smokers.  This time of year in Arizona, we are finally able to open our windows, turn off the A/C and breathe some fresh air.  Which means it’s finally cool enough for the smokers to congregate outside and suck ’em down in the comfort of a 70 degree day. So here I am trying to breathe MY air in MY office through MY open window and what do I breathe in except YOUR second hand smoke which has so thoughtfully wafted up from your smoking perch just below.  And now my office smells like smoke, and you KNOW that smell lingers. It’s no wonder you’re single and have to hang out by the mailbox to get someone to talk to you.

5. Work orders.  When the garage door is broken and I put in a work order for it to be fixed, I expect that to happen in a timely manner. Especially when the maintenance garage is literally 10 feet from my office window and it is often THEIR smoke that I am so lucky to inhale throughout the day.  What I DON’T expect is to wait 3 months and then finally abandon all hope that I will ever be able to use the number pad to access our garage again.

6.  Space. Rather, lack of space.

7.  Sound carries throughout the whole place.  For instance, when my Black Hawk of a washing machine takes off, it is as if I am actually camping out on a helipad, no matter where in the apartment I am stationed, because sound barriers? WHAT ARE THOSE!? Good thing I don’t have any shame whilst singing Gaga all day long at the top of my lungs.  Or Glee tunes. Or All I Want for Christmas is You.

I could go on, but I know I’m whining, and if you could see how cute and cozy my apartment is, you all would smack me upside the petty head.  And the reason I’m whining? Because since my birthday, all I’ve been able to think about what this.

And how on Thursday, our names will be on the title. SQUEE!!!

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