beyond_rhythm

I am happy to announce my departure for the next few days. I will be moving across town...out of this mold-infested death hole. No more co-residence witih cockroaches. No more leaky sink. No more dreary bathroom. No more flooding kitchen. No more angst-ridden carpet. No more drunken-hazard porch. And despite all this, I will still cry when I leave. Because with the loss of these hastles comes the loss of my past 2 years of lifestyle. I will not have the ridiculously loud window unit to save me from silence. I will not have the legendary downstairs neighbor who throws doors into trees, smashes chairs in the streets, and drunkenly calls to tell me of such events should I not be present for them. I will not have the option to walk into any given 3 apartments at any point in the day, regardless of resident occupancy at the time, in the area to steal milk, eggs, cinnamon, sugar, bug spray, clean pots, dish detergent, salt, toilet paper, or any other commodity I often loose or run out of. I will not have the pleasure of watching the 2am bar traffic on my should-be-one-way road, on my porch with a glass of wine and some bubbles. I will not have the soothing sounds of drunken "Roll Tide!"s at ungodly hours of the morning...nor the soothing sounds of shattering beer bottles and overdue fireworks.
Moving day will be a bittersweet day. I have loved you, shit hole apartment. Loved you despite your many many MANY flaws. I leave you, happily, but my steps are slow.