To the staff: Goodbye. We will not miss your snooty (snotty!) ways. Nor will we miss your fake smiles. We will however, miss the hilarious pinched nasal sound of your robotic salutations: "Wel-come to (insert name here) Apartments." (No seriously, try it, pinch your nose and try it!)
To the one neighbor we talked to: Goodbye. We sometimes crossed paths at the gym. We found your student id and credit card on the bench downstairs and when we returned it you gave an exasperated "I've been LOOKING for those....", like they were nothing but a comfy pair of socks. Maybe a misplaced bookmark. You also left your bike chain in front of our door for a long time and one day I got so sick of seeing it I hung it from your door knob. Sorry about that.
To the man in the wife beater: We had our routine at the gym. You always, without fail, wore a white wife beater and always had a smile and hello for me, even at 6 am. You always watched the news while working out, the tv turned on very loudly. I didn't mind. You helped me figure out how to break the rules by unplugging the tv cord so that I didn't have to listen through my headphones. Thanks, it helped through the miles. You were also very nice and pretended not to notice when I'd suddenly hop off the treadmill and run to the bathroom - knowing, I'm sure, that when you're jogging and need to go? Well, there's just no tip-toeing around it. Thanks for that.
To the cute Indian family two doors from us: I fell head over heels in love with your little girl, she is the cutest baby I've ever seen. Sorry about that day Caleb and I ran into you and your parents at the elevator, that was a little awkward....
To the quirky man with the purse dog: You were weird. But I liked you. You let us crash your party in the rec room our first weekend there so that we could watch "The Office" since our tv wasn't hooked up, and turned it up full blast so that we could sort of hear it over your drunk friends. That was very cool of you.
To the gay man in the puffy white jacket: I don't know what to make of you, you didn't seem to have a job. You walked around the complex with your poofy little white dog at odd hours of the day, when I would exercise before work, in the middle of the day, and late at night. There was not one time that I saw you walking that you weren't picking your nose. Not once. You didn't drive on your own, at least not that I saw, always getting rides from an older couple that I can only assume is your parents. I hope you're enjoying that.
To the man who lived above us: You woke me up once in the middle of the night, screaming "I HATE MY LIFE!!!!" at the top of your lungs. Several times. It scared me more than I can say, I laid there, eyes wide open and heart pounding, for at least an hour after, trying to calm down. I hope you're getting some help.
To the odd couple with the black lab: Sorry we took Bear away from you, you seemed to have an odd love for him. Every time we were outside for more than five minutes you'd come running down so that your dog could play with Bear. Hopefully you've found a replacement.
To the maintenance / cleaner guy: You were the only nice staff person. Hopefully they treat you well, and if not? You can totally find a better job, one that doesn't require wiping down treadmills four times a day.
And to everyone else living there: There's much better out there. Trust us.
August 6, 2007
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1 comment:
Kim, I want to write like you. I NEED to write like you! I love reading your posts, and probably should read them after I write my own because I always want to copy you after. The belated goodbyes are great, and makes me think of what I would say to the people in our old neighborhood. Love it!
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