Saturday Night (cabin) Fever

Due to a lack of financial resources (which was in turn due to an excessive consumption of alcohol the previous weekend) I had a relaxing evening at home this Saturday, and it taught me a few things about my neighbors. Most importantly:

1) The girl who lives above me appears to be some sort of carpenter/Olympic tumbler

and

2) Approximately 47 people live in the apartment diagonally above me, and they’re all into clubbing.

My apartment building isn’t so much an apartment building as a house that’s been carved up into apartments. I live in a studio that takes up about 12-square-feet in the back. I think there’s 6 apartments all together, but its really hard to tell because people are always coming and going. There’s only two people who’s names I actually know.

The weird thing is, I guess this is totally normal. No one I know who lives in any kind of apartment complex has any idea who their neighbors are. Here I am, listening to the girl above me banging away at what I can only imagine is an Ark at all hours of the night, and this other apartment routinely produces 564 people dressed in – what I gather from the sound of their heels – The Club Uniform, every other night. But if the fuzz ever shows up asking questions, I won’t be able to tell them anything. This is becoming a distinct possibility since the parade of clubbers came home at 1 a.m. this evening talking about how some creepy waitress had followed them or something (!). These people all live under my same roof, are up to all sorts of shenanigans, and I have no idea who they are.

So not to get all philosophical on you on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, but should I better know my neighbors? Should I make an effort? Or is better that I not involve myself in their desires to join Ringling Bros. and/or the Lumberjack World Championships and to break all the city’s fire codes? I just don’t know anymore.

Also, I really need to get out of my apartment.