July 24, 2007

on the living sichiation...

This afternoon, as I returned from a delightful breakfast with my dear friend cricket, I was greeted by the entire Orange County police force. Well, maybe not greeted, per se. And maybe not the entire police force. Details, details. Still, it was rather unnerving to see about seven police officers roaming about in front of my building, complete with a few cars and a couple other officers not in uniform. They were all gathered around in a very solemn circle, looking over a few papers. Very official, if you ask me.

Let me pose the question now: What kind of street, exactly, am I living on?

Last year I'm pretty sure someone was shot down the block, but aside from that...should I be worried for any reason? (The fact that I'm not generally intimidated by the fact someone was shot down the block kind of worries me to begin with...hmmm...) Actually, it did cross my mind to march back down the stairs, tap one of the officers on the shoulder and ask, "Should I be worried for any reason? Give it to me straight. My dad is an officer of the law. I ain't no sissy pants." But I didn't. Instead, Nuni and I stood by the window for a good ten minutes until the procession of badges, handcuffs and grim expressions headed around the corner and out of sight.

I won't lie. I was a little excited, thinking I was going to witness a beat-down first hand. A beat-down right in front of my apartment, which is slightly unnerving, but a beat-down nonetheless. I had to get ready for work, so I didn't have the time to follow them around the corner to see anything else. So, now - thanks to that - my imagination is working overtime coming up with all the scenerios that may or may not have actually happened. I have to admit, I'm mildly worried. Eh.

And there you have reason #49 to move. (That is added to a v. long list of concerns, including but not limited to: hair painted into the paint on the walls and/or countertops, icky bathtub, v. high rent, terrible parking sichiation, neighbors that don't seem to have a vague perception of human decency when it comes to radio volume, etc.) Am I complaining? I need to calm down, I know. I'm thankful we have somewhere to live, and...well...the rooms are big? Think of the brightside, just think of the brightside...hopefully within the next year we'll be somewhere else.

Darn you, Southern California and your real estate market! I shake my fist at you!


  1. Wow... scary! Yeah... your apartments are kinda scary, not gonna lie.

  2. Oooo. How exciting. About the police, I mean.

    I remember apartment woes. I live in a house now, praise the Lord, but I've had my share of apartment bitching sessions. The guy who used to warm up (or rev up) his Corvette every morning at 5am...the college guys who listened to music til 3:00a every night, through paper thin walls...the smokers who smoked their cigars in their non-smoking apartment...yep. It was a joy.

    I feel for you. Come live with me...I live across from a convent, so our neighbors are quiet.

  3. I had a friend that lived in an apartment overlooking a 7-11 parking lot and a busy intersection. He saw lotsa action and lotsa accidents. I understand your excitement... and your concern. I am sure you are fine... but be careful!


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