Home is Where the Heart Is

I love my apartment.

It's cheap. It's in this great Art Deco building. I have great windows. I'm in Midtown Memphis. I'm two blocks from work. I have great afternoon sun in the bathroom that makes you feel like you're bathing outdoors. I have parquet floors. My tub and sink are a quirky sea-foam green. I have a fucking-fantastic view of the Memphis skyline. I'm across the street from Danver's and Office Max. I can see the Pyramid and the M Bridge to the west. And I can see the Sears Building to the north. I can see Piggly-Wiggly to the north-east. And, oh, I almost forgot... there's a liquor store on the first floor.

But I'm learning there are oh-so-many reasons to dislike this place.

When the upstairs neighbors flush their toilets, it sounds like the building is screaming.

During the winter, I had this freak infestation of ladybugs. And I continue to find ladybug carcasses near the windows.

My elevator is so slow, we all think Otis is a tiny old man pedalling on a bicycle to heft the elevator to the seventh floor.

Being so close to work, I get the great honor of being on the security list. In the event that the office building's alarm goes off, I'm the first called.

In the corner of Kimbrough and Union, Memphis Light Gas and Water has decided to dig a hole, and until they're finished with said hole, they have placed a metal plate. Which rattles with every car that drives over it. Nightmarish.

There's some bizarre elevator work on the south tower. It's been closed for three months, and they've moved everyone out. And there's rumor that our tower is next. So help me God, don't make me move.