Reason No. 6,379 I'm glad to be leaving this apartment.

Dear Apartment ##5:

Hi, I'm Erin, this is my fiance, Dave. We live in ##3, right next door to you. Nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn't catch your name as you closed the elevator door the other day? I'll call you ##5 from now on.

It's nice to get to know your neighbors, isn't it? I think so. And I feel as if I've gotten to know you really well these last few days, since you moved in here two weeks ago.

For instance, you must either be an insomniac or work second shift. Either way, I notice you like to play war video games in your room (and I know it's your room, because our apartments are exactly the same -- two bedrooms, one on each end of the narrow apartment. Ours share a wall. Lucky me!). I know you have surround sound, and I know you either kicked some butt or got yours kicked in that game, as bombs went off and machine guns were fired well past 3 a.m.

I also noticed how you were awake at 6 a.m. on a Sunday, and that you have really bad taste in music. Rock 'n' roll does have bass in it, yes. But I don't think that "Pour Some Sugar on Me" should have bass that makes the humidifier on my dresser shake. I don't think that it's appropriate for me to have to pound on the bedroom wall, to no avail, to encourage you to politely shut up.

I also don't think it's appropriate to completely ignore logic and continue to play said music until 11 a.m., when I pound on the wall right before leaving, just to see if you'd listen then, using a bit more force than I could muster at 6 a.m.

Then you stopped. How kind of you. You must have thought, "Wow! I should really turn it down. I bet they don't like hearing it this late in the morning. I'll refrain from playing this loud music/game/whatever past 7 a.m. from now on."

The neat part about our living arrangements are, you have a good chance of never running into me again after Sept. 12. In nine days, we'll share ZIP codes (and these fond memories), but that's about it.

The bad part is, I'm kinda stressed right now in life. I also really like sleeping. Therefore, if you don't POLITELY STOP PLAYING MUSIC/GAMES/WHATEVER, you're going to find me outside your door with a baseball bat. Well, not really. If you knew me at all, you'd know I'd send Dave over.

We don't even have a baseball bat. We'd bring you a guidebook on these things called "headphones."

Sincerely,
Apt. ##3.

(Photo: Maybe the game you were winning/losing?)