I love my shoebox studio. I have hardwood floors, closet space, and a view of the freeway. I also have views of both the Washington Monument and the Capitol. On a clear day, I can spy on NASA. Best of all, their wireless connection extends into my apartment. NASA Internet is the height of cool.
Best of all, my apartment building looks just like two other complexes in the area. On several occasions, I have had friends claim they knocked on my door and I didn't answer. Turns out they were in the completely wrong building. I love camoflauge.
However, I wouldn't be me if I didn't have petty grievances. So here are some of the skeevier sides to apartment living:
1. The creepy Fashion Consultant guy who memorized my wardrobe. (No, not you, J.) In the year I have been in my apartment, Fashion Consultant has managed to deter me from wearing pastels, convinced me to wear heels less often, and to never, ever be caught dead in shorts ever again. My plan seems to have worked, as I have escaped his notice for the last few months.
2. The Elevator Shell Game. At any given time, one of the three elevators will be out of order. Often, the out-of-order elevator will unilaterally decide that we're under some sort of bomb threat, trap all passengers and hightail it to the basement. So choose wisely, or you'll have to team up with the other passengers to pry your way out with an umbrella.
3. Unfortunately, the Illegal Haitian Day Care has moved out. I miss them. I would walk past and try to figure out why they seemed to have more and more children each week. I thought they were just especially fecund, but, no, it was an illegal day care.
4. The Drill Team also moved out. The Drill Team were these two women who would blast bass-heavy music and stomp around to it. They had rhythm, I'll give them that.
5. Speaking of rhythm, the Drill Team was replaced by the Sex on a Schedule People. The couple who replaced them seem to have sex a lot, but only ever at 11:30 pm. C'mon, people, change it up! Don't let the magic die!
6. The Stoners in Love. There's this really adorable couple who get high and then slow-dance in the hallway. It almost makes me believe in romance.
7. The My-Laundry-Is-More-Important-Than-Your-Laundry Lady. In a logistical coup, my laundry room has more than twice as many washers as dryers. This means that all 16 washers get used. Then, people attempt to use two dryers per washer load. Which is pretty dumb, but follow along. Therefore, there is a demand for 32 dryers. However, the geniuses at my building have provided us with only eight dryers, meaning that only 25% of demand is met. So there is always an enormous line for a dryer. The MLIMITYLL will remove one article of a clothing at a time from the washer, move it to the dryer of her choice, and repeat incessantly until her four loads of washing are now occupying all eight dryers. The transfer process takes about 20 minutes, by which time all laundry room attendees are tempted to grab her, pin her to the folding tables, and suffocate her with dryer sheets. Or perhaps just me. I might have anger issues.