It's Time to Move

I've lived in the same apartment since graduating in 2001. Before that, I spent four years in the same dorm room. And before that, 17 years in one house.

I'm not big on changing where my mail goes, basically. But I understand now that it is definitely time for me to get the fuck out of my pad.

My next door neighbor fancies himself a DJ. I've complained to the leasing office repeatedly. I've asked him to turn it down. And when I ask, he does. Yet every goddamn night it's the same thing: hours of ceaseless thunka thunka thunka. And during the rare moments when his stereo isn't fostering my murderous rage, my other neighbor's stereo is pounding the wall in the other room.

For the past three days, a team of workers have been refacing our building's exterior. What this means is that there is a constant noise throughout the day immediately outside the windows that sounds like a saw, a sander, and a drill at the same time. This sound starts at 7:29 every morning and gets louder with each passing day as they get closer and closer to our floor.

Today, they were right outside, and now Erica's desk, which is flush against one of the windows they decided to saw/sand/drill near, is coated in a thick, uniform layer of dust.

I actually go into work because it's quiet there. Work is my vacation. And you all know how much I have to hate my home life in order to say that.

And so I'm dreading it, but the time is right: I have to find a new place to live. One that isn't adjacent to a goddamn DJ freak who never sleeps.