Book 'em! Or Bookazine Them. Or Just Read A Magazine And Call The Cops.

Yesterday was one of those days where two things happened:

1.) My Taste of Home magazine came in the mail.

2.) I called 911.

Let's get the important one out of the way and talk about #1 first.
It was like any other ordinary trip to the mailbox. I had just taken Pete to frolic about in the field and on the way back, we stopped by the mail center. As I unlocked our box, I knew. I knew like you know a bad case of poison ivy. 'There's something good on the other side of this tiny door' I thought to myself. And I was RIGHT! There, looking at me, was the October Taste of Home magazine with pies spramping all over the cover.

Here was the downside. In addition to knowing it was an exciting trip to the mailbox, I also knew that after the hospital fiasco earlier this week, my apartment was in serious need of some TLC (in the form of deep cleaning) People, you would be so proud. I put on my responsible pants (and also my cookie pants, because they're great for cleaning - and so much more...) and I said to myself 'Sandi! You will CLEAN this apartment! You will clean it good! And then, THEN! You shall behold what this magazine beareth within!' Oh it was great. I was awesome. I turned on The Simpsons and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and then when I could clean no more, I collapsed on the couch. And read my magazine. For some reason it's always more enjoyable reading something when one's surroundings are in good order.

Oh, also, I called 911. There have only been a small handful of occasions in which I have had to dial those particular numbers. Each occasion as different as the next. On THIS particular occasion, all I was trying to do was watch 'Modern Family.' You might've heard of it. I've been fighting Modern Family for a couple of years now. See, I love. love. love. LOVE. 'Arrested Development.' That show is priceless. And yet killed off so soon. Part of me held a grudge against Modern Family because it has just exploded all over the place and it's made much in the same way as Arrested Development but also it's different? Right? Anyways, I couldn't fight it anymore, and all the previews of the new episodes looked funny, so I watched. At about, 8:20 in the PM, when I'm laughing my head off, the people above me start banging around. Not just stomping or running. It sounded like football practice or something was going on. 8:45 in the PM rolled around and it still continued. It got pretty bad. They shook my apartment so much that my dutch oven, which perches on top of my fridge, shifted around. You could kill someone with that thing it's so heavy! At about that point I was texting Mike (he was in class) to see if he had the non-emergent number for the police because I was becoming concerned about what exactly was going on up there... And then I heard the screaming and sobbing. I decided that was about the time to call 911, so I did. Would y'all have done that?? We have NEVER heard voices through the ceiling before, so it was very loud screaming and crying. I was past annoyed feelings at that point and became deeply concerned for whoever was up there. Seriously. I believe I did the right thing.
Anyways, they say they'll send someone over and blah blah blah. Things quiet down and Mike comes home and about 9:45 in the PM it sounds like they are rearranging their entire apartment. It gets better. Are you guys excited? At 10:25 in the PM (on the DOT!) they start banging on the wall. Quietly at first, and then it builds into some sort of glorious crescendo that makes you want to punch someone in the face. After this continued for a good 5 minutes, Mike called the non-emergency police number and they send someone over again (we heard them bang on the door this time) and things did seem to quiet down.
When we woke up this morning, there was dust, from our ceiling fan, all over our floor and our bed. I started hemming and hawing about how they shook the ceiling so bad that dust fell down and I just vacuumed the whole freaking place and blah blah blah and about that time Mike points out that the fan we had plugged in was pointed up at the ceiling and could very well have blown the dust off the ceiling fan and I decided he was probably right... I don't like admitting when that happens.

We seem to always attract fun neighbors. I use the term fun very loosely. One time we had next door apartment neighbors that woke us up at all hours of the night being... together. Very loudly, together. You know? The horizontal horror? Or whatever they were doing. And then the lady who lived upstairs before the screaming football team did, would get drunk and try and unlock my apartment door, late at night, until her boyfriend told her loudly that they lived one more floor up. (this happened while Mike was away at Fort Hood, which made it all the more exciting for me) See the fun? I'm really not painting a pretty picture of our apartments. And actually we love them. The staff is great and the neighbors are great. Seriously.

Just, the ones upstairs are crazy.