PROBLEMS WITH MY APARTMENT

	When I was younger, I fantasized about how wonderful life would be when I moved into my own apartment.  Now I’m a bit older and wiser, and my fantasies have turned into nightmares.  My apartment has given me nothing but headaches.  From the day I signed the lease, I’ve had to deal with an uncooperative landlord, an incompetent janitor, and inconsiderate neighbors.
	First of all, my landlord has been uncooperative.  Now, I spend a fair amount of time alone, and I specifically requested to this man that he always notify me at least a week before any scheduled visits.  Imagine my surprise, then, when one day right in the middle of my treasured rerun of Golden Girls, I receive a phone call that my apartment is scheduled for a viewing in 48 hours!  The nerve of him, to ignore my hand written note! I even had the foresight to bypass his secretary, because my privacy is so important to me. I delivered my request to him in person, as I hope seeing me will bolster his confidence in me as a tenant, and he will be less compelled to check in on me and disturb my peace of mind, or worse, to enter the apartment when I’m not around.  This, however, is far from the worst of my concerns.  The scheduled viewing now presents another dilemma entirely, one which is only exacerbated the next problem I run into again and again.
	I’ve had a problem not only with my landlord, but also with an incompetent janitor.  This gentleman, John, ought very well to know my name personally by now for how often I call upon his services.  Every week I pay him for a thorough cleaning of my loft, one would think that the compensation I give him is enough to motivate him.  Unfortunately, every week, not only does he scrub the bloodstains from the linoleum and linens with difficulty, taking too long for my liking and complaining all the while, he asks questions. He has yet to devise a suitable method of removing the pools of blood from my walls and floor tiles which leaves behind no evidence. At the end of every work day, John roughly reminds me how much I owe him, and with a furrowing angry wrinkle of his brow, he holds these facts hostage, as if I were suddenly unable to pay him, he would start talking, and summon a scrutinizing eye to my home. I pay John as much as salary can afford, but he is far from the biggest threat in my life.
	Perhaps the worst problem has been with the inconsiderate neighbors who live in the apartment above me.  Every Saturday they come knocking on my door, with so much friendliness it makes my face ache to see.  They try to invite themselves in, they bring over baked goods and DVDs.  I plan my day meticulously to ensure I always have an excuse to avoid them.  “No ma’am, I’m afraid I haven’t got the time to come over and try that new knitting pattern with you today, I’ve got a great big presentation due in the morning and I must give it my all!”  I spend the evening rearranging my stash of meat in the freezer box instead. Gail and Deborah never stop trying, though, God bless their souls. One night, it’s Yahtzee and the next, they’ve all ordered Thai delivery and they’d love to share. The meddling of these women is the greatest threat to my security I face. If they only spent five minutes within these walls, it would fast become apparent what it was I liked to do.
	Sometimes, my apartment seems like a small, friendly oasis surrounded by hostile enemies.  I never know what side trouble is going to come from next: the landlord, the janitor, or the neighbors.  Home may be where the heart is, but my sanity is thinking about moving out.