I was sitting in my bed at 2:00 AM, morose and contemplating my station in life, when, big surprise, the shouting started.
When I began writing a short while later, I would watch and make up stories about people based off my observations. You are different. I don’t want to write your story. I want to KNOW your story. I bet you have lots to tell.
6. Your sweatpants.
They sleep during the day and fill their nights with World of Warcraft, German reggae, and shouting.
Yes, these are actual recordings. Yes, it’s really that loud.
If she doesn’t like my cats it’s kind of a deal breaker.
About a year and half ago, my wife, Kia, and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in “The Avenues,” a quiet Salt Lake City neighborhood northeast of the downtown area.
Memories of that stupid meditative Indian flute music that reverberated through your ceiling way too loudly during many attempts at getting some much needed studying done.
Of course, the appeal of the hot neighbor is impossible to deny; how can you consistently rebuff a lovely visage you see every day on the stairs?
I see her outside jumping with such joy that I am almost inspired to join her. Then I remember that I am frail, and an adult stranger jumping rope with a child is the sort of thing that gets you arrested.