Our Parking Lot

A few days ago, I slipped on a pair of shoes so I could go outside and get the mail. People who live in cute apartment buildings probably have the luxury of reaching a hand out the door and grappling at a metal lid. Some people might even be able to walk to an interior lobby and unlock a special golden box. I put on shoes and rain gear, fear the elements, and head outside. My building's mailboxes are on the outside wall, maybe seven steps away from my door. The distance is not the real issue. Upon opening my door to go outside, I am usually making direct eye contact with whomever happens to be sitting in a parked car at that moment. It's usually a construction worker or a plumber, some guy who is eating a sandwich and definitely not expecting anyone to appear from the decrepit door on the side of the building. In case I've never mentioned it before, our building is next to a parking lot for the restaurant across the street. Sometimes a guy who mumbles and collects metal cans hangs out in this parking lot. He smiles a lot. I know that every time I open this door, I am going to potentially be interacting with someone and it's just such a drag. But I gotta check that mail, you know?

I've been awaiting my absentee ballot like a crazy person. I don't even mind that I might have to actually talk to someone while checking the mail. I am a LADY and I need to VOTE [in Ohio because my vote doesn't mean much here]!!!! I've never voted absentee before so I don't really know what kind of time frame I should be expecting in regards to getting this envelope of democracy. (Note: an e-mail today informed me that it was just sent.) So a few days ago, after I had slipped on my shoes and ran down all the steps and swung open the door and growled at the sun, I turned to the mailboxes, my mailbox key in hand, and I promptly freaked the fuck out. Why?

Because there was a bum sleeping on my steps.

"DAH!" I exclaimed. Needless to say, I wasn't really expecting to see somebody so peacefully curled up near the usually bustling parking lot. Did I say "peacefully curled up"? I meant to say splayed-out-like-a-dead-guy-oh-my-god-this-guy-might-be-dead-run,Katie,run. He was also alarmingly close to the mailboxes and it was my fear that I'd wake him up and then I would have to interact with a parking lot person. After my initial yelp, I immediately high tailed it back inside, locked both locks, ran upstairs, and locked all those locks, too. I had fabricated the idea that Bum Magic exists, a special dark form of wizardry that enables homeless guys to make their way through locked doors. It's ridiculous, I know, but it made sense at the time. I texted my room mate to warn her about the sleeping man on our steps. She responded to say that she had already seen him when she left for work that morning at circa 6 am, meaning he had been slumbering/laying unconscious for close to six hours if not much more. I did not like this one bit. Afternoon nap? Hell yeah, right there with you man. Dead guy on my steps? NO THANKS.  Once in the apartment, I opted not to do anything but instead think about a lot of stuff. I thought having to call the police and saying, "Uhh, yeah, hi, I've got a situation." That storyline then branched off into this hypothetical in which the policemen became my personal protectors and we were friends and so on and so forth. I also thought about having to call our landlord, the same guy who has yet to return my calls or e-mails in regards to the washer and dryer not working. Dead body? He's especially not calling back. I also imagined having to talk to the authorities and they would ask, "Ma'm, did you kill this hobo?" And I would say, "No. Are you registered to vote?" None of these things happened because by the time my room mate got home around 2, he was gone. I fully anticipate his return at some point in the near future. And yes, I will scream again.

Last night I was awoken at 4:20 on the dot (not on purpose) by what I thought was a live mariachi hip hop band in my dining room. Needless to say, I was a little perplexed. I got up and walked into the room, the noise growing louder as I made my way out. I looked out the window and a car was parked there, all four doors open, music blasting. And numerous people were just dancing it all out, straight up stomping the yard. I growled at them. Don't you people have jobs to go to in the morning? I don't personally but I just assumed they did. I stumbled back to bed. Minutes later, the music set off at least three car alarms on the street. I hope they didn't wake up that hobo--I'm sure he had a rough night.

This isn't ours. I just wanted a new thumbnail picture for this post. 

Last night I was walking home from a friend's nearby apartment. I was with someone and she asked if I felt safe in my neighborhood. I said that I really do, especially because I'm located in such a public, well-lit area. I did, however, pause and say: "Well, our parking lot can get a little weird." And I really, really mean that. 

In other news, I saw The Avett Brothers for a third time in concert! It was the absolute best. This is what the set list looked like:

Live and Die
Paranoia in B-Flat Major 

Shame

The Fall

I Never Knew You

Go To Sleep

Down With the Shine

Distraction #74

January Wedding

At the Beach

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise

Laundry Room

Pretty Girl from Chile

Winter in my Heart

Will You Return?

Murder in the City

February Seven

A Father's First Spring

The Prettiest Thing (David Childers cover, look it up!)

Kick Drum Heart

I and Love and You

If It's the Beaches (first time seeing it live; freaked out.)

Talk on Indolence 

Just a Closer Walk with Thee

AND BOB CRAWFORD WAS THERE!!!! I had a lot of emotions happening during this concert as well as a result of it. It's nice to have music that reminds you what it is to feel. 

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering: Yes, fall in Chicago is lovely. I highly recommend it.