I was thinking about my last apartment this morning.
The one in Hell's Kitchen. It was so clean and nice on the inside - brand new everything. The floors were the best. So shiny and beautiful and clean. That place was small though. So tiny. We had this tiny love seat that was our couch and one other chair.
At night, we were so close to the people next door I could hear the dude light his cigarette. And he did - every morning at 6 am the guy would have a smoke. How freaking disgusting is that?
The super lived below us. He was a real mess, dudes. A real mess. Anyways, he totally used to smoke and light incense to cover it up. I noticed one morning that my apartment was rapidly filling with smoke so I called him. He came upstairs and I said look at this - my apartment is full of smoke from your incense. He looked surprised - so that was good - it's not like he had any idea that he was filling my apartment with smoke when he fired up his incense. So he apologized - but before he left said "Yes, but it's nice right? Smells good?" I was like, dude, no. Get out of my apartment.
That place also had mice. Not mouse. Multiple mice. One morning, a dead mouse lay on my living room floor just outside the bathroom. I still can't believe that - what if I stepped on it with my bare feet you guys?
Anyways, I don't know what got me to thinking about that apartment except maybe the usual bliss I feel when I look around my new apartment. I love it.