Last night

Last night I had these plans of cleaning up the apartment and then leisurely reading my new book, Middlesex, and going to sleep early.

I did everything except go to bed early. Turns out I couldn't fall asleep till 4 am, and then at 8 woke up to get ready and go sing at church. Bitch! I hate not being able to sleep.

Anyway, while I was cleaning, I came up with this list of questions to ask my apartment if it could talk. Here's the list, and the answers.

Apartment, why does Martin (the landlord) hate us?
Because you're good tenants. If you were bad ones, he'd have leverage to raise the rent on you at the end of your lease.

Doesn't he have that leverage already simply because of where we live?
...Yes. Ok, Martin is just a douche bag because he has to be one. Didn't you listen to This American Life this week?

Oh yeah. Ok, well why is our apartment perpetually messy?
In buildings this old, dirt grows.

Do we have ghosts?
Probably. But I'm really not an expert on the manner. If you're talking about the footsteps that you here while you're taking a shower, that's the previous tenant who never gave his keys back. He likes to visit his old haunts.

Is that supposed to be funny?
Yeah, it was. Guess it didn't work.

You are so retarded, apartment. Will you just please stop shifting around? I'm so tired of the slanted walls and ceiling and floors. Nothing about you is level. That's so not cool. I'll live in you for as long as I can, but once I'm gone, I'm gone forever. Aufwiedersen Baby!
That's what they all say.

God, apartment, you're just as douchey as Martin. I don't think I want to talk to you anymore.