You may remember the blender kidnapping of 2013. Well, here’s apartment saga, Episode 2.
Last night I had just drifted off to sleep. Or was dang close. It was a very late 10 p.m. for me.
All of the sudden we were awaken by a huge crash. I may have said some expletives. “What the _____ was that? WHERE the ____ was that?”
It sounded like it was in the room with me and sounded like an explosion.
Got up to look out the peephole in the front door to the hallway, but didn’t see anything. Back to bed.
In a few moments, I heard more glass clattering around and hopped back up to the peephole. This time, I saw a guy right in front of the door, bending over cleaning something up. WTF.
There are these decorative sconces over lights outside each apartment door, even though we have interior doors, that light up the hallway instead of overhead lights.
I pulled my robe on and decided I was going out there. I know.
Sure enough, the sconce that covers my light was destroyed. There was glass on the carpet still and I was in my bare feet.
Down the hall, two guys were probably 6 apartments down, walking away, holding a broom and dustpan. Now, they were turning to look at me because they heard my door open.
I yelled, “Hey! What happened?” and pointed to the light. I can only assume these are students at Vandy — they look to be about 21. But dumber and more entitled.
One sort of giggled/scoffed and said “oh yeah – he was throwing a ball and broke it.” Oh really. That’s hilarious.
“We’ll call the office tomorrow and have them fix it.”
Please note “I’m sorry – did we wake you, old lady?” or “Sweet robe – were you sleeping? Sorry about the noise and breaking your light,” were never uttered.
I said “ok. You live in the corner unit?”
To this, Turd #2 (the ball thrower) snorted. Like “what do you care?” Oh, I care. I care because I want to know where you little vandals live.
Turd #1 said “Yes.” And shrugged his shoulders like “there, are you happy?” No, I’m not happy. I’m standing in glass and YOUR MOM HAS RENTED THE MOST EXPENSIVE APARTMENT IN THIS JOINT FOR YOU TURDS TO DESTROY. Leave mine alone.
I swear. I love my apartment SO hard. It is the best little city nest. But at the risk of sounding like an old lady, it seems to have more than its fair share of idiots living there.
Before & After.
Where the old folks at? Let’s hang out. And bring your pitchforks (and canes). I have a plan.
Old lady Wade, out.