Before you say anything, I know, I know – I’ve
been a bad mouse. First I start blogging multiple times a week, showing you
pictures and posting quotes and writing weekly entries; and then, for three
whole weeks… silence. Sorry about that, friends. There’s been a lot on my plate
lately. One particularly time-consuming event involved a long-awaited move from
Purgatory back to Earth.
About a year ago, we moved to a nice
apartment and believe it or not, we got along pretty well with our landlords (a
husband/wife duo). It was located in a nice area, across the street from a
playground, about 6 blocks away from a school in one direction, 6 blocks from a
grocery store in another direction and about a mile and a half from some
retailers in two directions. The one problem is that, well, it was in a
village. I mean, their City Hall wouldn’t have called it that, but in the end,
that’s what it was. Initially, I didn’t consider this to be too problematic
because it seemed like the perfect, quiet idyllic place to go when you wanted
peace and quite to write and be creative. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Our apartment was located in a large house
divided into four family units. Let me just say that my husband and I were incompatible
with all three neighboring units within the house. There were just small
differences, I suppose. While we tend to avoid manic and aggressive dogs, our
neighbors downstairs had a penchant for raising them. While we consider bodily functions to be a rather private matter, the neighbors upstairs were FAR less inhibited. The neighbors beside us apparently took Rihanna’s song
“Breakin’ Dishes” very seriously, and regularly had loud conflicts around the
convenient hour of 2 AM. That’s not all, but these examples should give you a
general impression of our experience there. We finally decided we’d had enough and discovered an idyllic apartment in the EuroCity before we went to New York.
My husband said it best when he said that the best thing about that place was the landlord duo (and yes, we’re planning on meeting up with them for dinner again some time this month. They really ARE very nice people). Another disturbing but probably equally accurate thing that my husband said was a few minutes before we were scheduled to return the keys to the apartment. As we stood in the empty living room listening to the manic dog's barking tirade in the background, he sighed and said, "What were we thinking? This is a place where you go to DIE."
Now,
about a week after our official move-in day, everything feels absolutely
right. I can now sit at my computer without wanting to yield a Thor-like hammer
and knock some sense into someone every time I hear the voice of a neighbor.
That, my friends, is progress.
xoxo CountryEuroCityMouse
©2012 CountryEuroCityMouse™. All rights reserved.
