First Floor Living

I have lived in the same apartment for a year (like living in the same place for a year is some type of feat) in the same room, with very few things changed. In my time here in apartment D I've come to the conclusion that I will never again live on the first floor of an apartment building.

Last May while I was at home diligently working to support my college habits of eating three meals a day, buying books occasionally, renting the occasional movie someone nicely slashed the screen of my fairly empty bedroom, unlocked my window and may or may not have enjoyed a stay in my bedroom. Over my Christmas holiday this year I received a call from the lovely management that went a little like this:

"Hi Megan this is so and so, during a routine inspection of your building we noticed that your screen has been cut and your window was open, oh, about five or so inches. We went ahead and called the police and went into your room, it doesn't look like anything was taken but when you get back I need you to just take a look around and make sure everything is where you left it."

Sure enough I get back to my apartment everything seems to be where I left it, my window is still unlocked but shut, my curtain has been pulled down, the cheap rod bent but nothing too terrible. The week progressed and I'm in the throws of tonsillitis before my second class meeting. A week after that, I'm too sick to do anything productive so I go to my movie collection to see what I could put on to fall asleep to. All but four of my movies were gone. They took Jarhead, We Wear Soldiers, Lucky Number Slevin, Monkey Love (that was their mistake), Rocky Horror, The Meaning of Life and quite a few others and left me with Juno, Princess Bride and American Beauty. 

I was asking for it. My window is knee height from the ground. I was begging for my things to be taken.

If the DVD thief just happens to read this, I'd like my movies back. Just leave them in a bag outside my door and we'll just forget the whole thing. Thanks.

With Spring around the corner I'm dreading the warm weather parties that my upstairs neighbors will have. I'm not mad that have parties, they can be fun, I'm mad that at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday I can be sitting on my balcony (porch? concrete slab?) reading in the sun when a shower of jungle juice comes out of no where. I have never figured out why you would dump your drinks through the floor boards but I'm even more confused as to why you would waste booze in such a manner.  I do not like being doused with alcohol before going to class.

 I know its my fault, I live on the first floor. 

Today, after a fairly decent snow, I was sitting in my living room watching the people play in the snow with their dog when a bunch of boys (that looked much like high schoolers and an old fat man or woman) started stealing our snow. They were scooping it up in five gallon buckets and dumping it somewhere out of view. I was subject to the taking off of coats and having to look at these boys in their t-shirts and gloves.  I have to be honest here, it wasn't pretty, and their voices pierced the air over the ruckus inside. If I lived on the second floor I wouldn't have head them, I wouldn't have seen them, I would have been content to look into the woods and at the other apartments. 

But alas I live on the first floor and must live with boys with high voices and no coats stealing my snow.