My Own Apartment

After enduring years of living with people that...

• hung their gun club targets in their room
• used their money as psychologically demeaning terrorism
• licked microwaved chicken fat off plates
• played Vox by Sarah McLachlan exclusively on repeat for 2 months straight
• followed me around with a bottle of disinfectant
• let varying colours of mold grow on almost every piece of food they didn't consume
• owned a rat that had a tumor... and then it gnawed it's own tumor off and still wondered around the apartment, festering and diseased
• constantly breaking their bed due to vigorous sex between two rather large individuals that sounded like rhinos trying to kill each other for dominance over their herd
• was not so secretly in love with another roommate, so began a sociopathic hate campaign against anyone else (a.k.a. Me) that befriended said other roommate
• tried to kill themselves
• would spill a quarter of a pound of sugar on the counter and floor and then walk away and leave it
• had "Therapy Thursdays" so we all had to avoid them at all costs after those wonderful sessions
• claimed to have trudged through the swamps in Vietnam with a gun even though she was only nineteen
• spit-shined their boots every morning and wore camouflage... FOR FUN
• blasting gangster rap while chilling in his fitted Ralph Lauren khakis and collared Lacoste shirt
• gave Single White Female a run for the title
• instead of emptying the garbage, they (and this is more than one) would just throw garbage in the general vicinity of the garbage and letting it pile up and fester
• got pregnant but decided NOT to tell her family, because we all know a skinny skank that suddenly wears XL overalls and sweaters is completely subtle and sneaky
• having 3 boyfriends that were not aware of each other and we were expected to keep track of their names
• sleeping with two brothers that DID know about each other (ewww)
• was a cutter
• would lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling for hours and not say a word or fall asleep
• insisted on watching "CSI Whatthefuckever" and then commenting on how inaccurate it all was because they knew everything about forensic science
• almost going postal because I asked whether it was cool or not that we rotated garbage duties
• talking with her boyfriend between the hours of 1am-5am, which sounded like Charlie Brown's mother reverberating through my wall every fucking night
• constantly living in fear of their cat swallowing tinsel and having to pull it out of its ass
• ran a phone sex hotline from their room...

I decided it was time I lived on my own.

The first paycheck in which I earned a relatively acceptable salary, I told the current nut jobs that I would be leaving in 30 days from that moment. And I would NOT be hitting my ass on the door on my way out.

It was a beautiful blue, single dormered two story house in the heart of Greek Town. The ceilings were high and light blasted through skylights in both the kitchen and living room. The walls were white and clean, and the hardwood floors were freshly polished. The smell of varnish and paint filled the tiny apartment, and it made me smile.

It was perfect.
It was all mine.
I could be alone, finally.
Quiet.

And then 3 months after I moved in, the landlords had a baby. Colic.

FUCK. ME.