Perspective

For the first time since I have had my apartment of over one year, my month-old (in apartment owning years) next-door neighbor, kindly knocked on my door and asked me to turn down my music. This would not bother me for three reasons: 1) If the said neighbor had any taste for good music, like the song I was playing at the time of the incident, which happened to be Simon Mobile Disco's Hustler; 3) If the music had actually been turned about all the way; 2) If the said neighbor was not wearing an apron. That's right. My male neighbor (who does have a wife and is not cool enough to be gay) was wearing a short, navy blue apron. This just further supports the fact that every time I come home from the office, the foyer (or foy-a, as some claim it) smells like a strange combination of baking soda and catfish; He even looked the part of the wifely, house-husband. All that is to say that at 8PM on a Friday, my pre-partying rituals were interrupted by a new neighbor who obviously didn't realize that the music wouldn't last long, and that his evening of catfish and Yahtzee could continue as every other night if he'd only waited five more minutes until I headed to the bar.

It might be time to check the housing market...