Dear Neighbor,

Hi. Yeah, I’m the chick you called the cops on. Nice to make your acquaintance. So sorry we’ve caused you so much distress with our walking and breathing and existing. It’s been a rough 24 hours. Yes, we’ve only been here for a day and you already hate us. I know, it shocks me as well.

Let’s start at the beginning. It took us a dozen hours to drive here from our home in Florida. A half a day, dude. And, did I mention the 15 year old cat and how our car now smells like urine and beef jerky? It was a long day. I’m pretty sure my husband served me with divorce papers halfway through. I considered leaving my son at three of the seven rest areas we stopped at.

When we arrived at our apartment we were exhausted and starved. I’m pretty sure the only thing I ate that day was blob of peanut butter licked off a plastic spoon and a blue Peep covered in cat hair. It was raining, biblically I might add. An ark was being built in the parking lot. Noah helped us up the stairs with our bags before he loaded the animals onboard.

We’re on the third floor, as you know, and it was cold and rainy that day. I left 80 degree weather, blissfully unaware that there are other locations on Earth that require their residents to wear more than shorts and flip flops. The movers had every last warm bit of clothing we owned, all three sweaters. We were freezing and soaked and my Lord, the urine and beef jerky smell!

After several wet, frigid, smelly flights up and down the stairs schlepping every random object that could fit in the back of a midsize SUV we set out in search of foodstuffs and toilet paper. We slogged through the aisles of the grocery store like zombies, throwing anything remotely edible in our cart. $200 later we headed home, but home was dark, dark as what I imagine your soul is.

Unbeknownst to us, the biblical storm we were enduring had knocked a tree over onto a power line. “Surely this will be rectified soon,” we deluded ourselves into believing as we loaded up the fridge and freezer. Fortunately, when the power came on ten hours later, I had my salty tears to eat because there was little else since I had to throw away 95% of what we had bought the night prior.

Oh, the heat! I didn’t tell you about the heat! Our heat wouldn’t turn on and it was cold, cold and rainy, and all I had to wear was a Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. And, worse than the no heat, there was no coffee! I mean, what the hell, dude? I’m cold and undercaffeinated and I’ve just thrown away two Benjamins worth of food and the day isn’t even half over!

Maintenance came and fixed the heat, as well as the garbage disposal that sounded like it had a handful of nails in it, which it did. Then, the cable guy came. It was midway through his visit that I realized the cat was missing. Yeah, the 15 year old cat that I mentioned earlier. She was just gone, nowhere to be found. And, the odds that she could survive outdoors are pretty close to nil since she has all the charm of an alt-right blogger and half the survival skills of a Kardashian sister. After twenty minutes of panicked searching, indoors and out, we discovered her cowering behind a closet door. I should recover from the stroke any day now.

For lunch I had a half bag of microwaved popcorn and an orange Fanta. Then, I spent the next few hours unpacking and doing laundry. I think I was finally able to shower around 5, just in time to head to the grocery store AGAIN and drop another couple of hundys on food. And, it was still cold and still raining and I STILL don’t have my warm clothes and I still live on the third floor.

I was finally starting to feel like everything was going to be alright. The heat was working. The place was tidied up. I made dinner, cleaned the kitchen. The garbage had been put out. My son was taking a nice, warm bath. My husband was lying down. I was quietly losing yet another game of Bubble Witch 3. Zen was creeping in. And, then, knock, knock, knock.

I don’t know anybody here, so I had no idea who it could be. Perhaps a neighbor welcoming me to the hood. Hell, a visit from a Jehovah’s Witness would have been nice, but no, it was a cop. At first, I was like, did he read my weed postΒ and now he’s here to arrest me? No, that wasn’t it. He was coming to my home that I’ve been living in for one whole day to let me know you insisted he come out and tell me how loud I am because you are a douchenozzle.

Now, I don’t know when you moved in, but I’ve got a year left here and for as long as you’re down there I’m going to be above you. I’m going to have to walk around the place every now and again, just to keep from getting blood clots. And, the toilets are going to flush. The washer and dryer will always be going. The cat is going to get me up at some godforsaken hour and will insist on jumping off the kitchen counter at least 5 times a day and you are just going to have to DEAL WITH IT, YO. We live in an apartment!

If you wanted to live in your own misery without the slightest annoyance you should have bought yourself a Unabomber shack in the woods. We live in the Carolinas. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find one. I passed about 87 of them along the highway on my drive up here. But, you didn’t do that, did you? And, now you live under me, so buckle up. One more cop shows up at my door and I’m going to take up tap dancing and yodeling. Have a nice day.

Sincerely,

Christine

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