The Neighbor

I have this neighbor next door to me who's really bugging me.

Apparently, she goes on these smoking binges about every two weeks and spends about 36 hours smoking non-stop.

The thing is, it seeps into my apartment somehow. I think it's coming through the ventilation system. But her cigarette smoke is so acrid and smells really awful.

One night, she was smoking so much it set off the smoke alarm and she couldn't get it turned off. She had her door to the hallway open and it set off the main alarm in the building. I poked my head around and looked into her front door.

I couldn't believe the sight. She's one of those people who hoards everything. The apartment was a total disaster. That's when I met this woman. . . .

Have you ever seen that TV program called "Intervention"? Each week they feature someone who's a drug addict, the family intervenes, the addict gets pissed off, everyone cries and the addict is whisked away to a treatment center. It's one of my favorite programs.

Anyway, my neighbor looks like a candidate for that program. She's a total mess. I don't know how she got to live here.

Well, she was on one of her binges yesterday. It lasted all through the night and this one was a doozey. Finally, early this morning she let up and must have crashed or something.

So, here it is on Saturday morning. Now that she's finally let up, what do I do?

I begin vacuuming my place while blaring "I Think I Love You" by the Partridge Family and singing along to it over and over. That'll show her.

I know she's got a right to smoke in her own place. I know I need to get maintenance up here and remedy this situation.

But in the meantime, she's going to get a good dose of David Cassidy and me early in the mornings.

By the way, singing "I Think I Love You" very loudly early in the morning is a fantastic way to begin your day.

I highly recommend it.