I got a call from the management office today to let me know they are replacing my door tomorrow. Because, for all the shit wrong with this place, giving me a white door is their top priority.

Fear washed over me when I saw the number light up on my phone. The upstairs assholes have been so bad lately that I haven’t slept in three nights.

For several moments, I was so tired, I honestly thought wow — for the few moments I did manage to fall asleep between screams and pounds and things breaking — did I sleepwalk up there and murder them?

I didn’t say anything about it. I said sure, bring the door because I really need one more impossible-to-clean thing. OK well I didn’t say THAT. But still. Nobody cares that I pay top dollar for a “luxury” apartment in which there is no luxuriating.

I guess I have to be grateful that I got rid of one problem (a very BIG problem) at work. So how silly of me to think other things could get resolved too and I actually fully enjoy my life.

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