Maude here.
I’ve been badgering Quincy from the moment we moved into our newly renovated condo (our first “adult” purchase) that our neighbors are filthy mole people that need to be put in their place.
Why, you ask?
Because they smoke.
Now, I could fucking care less if they smoke. Just don’t put it in our handmade drapes and fresh, new carpet. OR IN MY LUNGS. C’mon.
You’re probably in 3 categories whilst reading this:
Group 1: “I’m a smoker and I can smoke if I want and I’m offended that you’re grossed out by my disgusting habit!”
Group 2: “I’m neutral. It doesn’t matter if I smoke or not.”
Group 3: “Fuck those people, they smoke and should be punished. I obviously do not smoke.”
I do not smoke. Quincy does not smoke. We have collectively decided to live in a smoke-free household. I’ve never said that people should not smoke (even through they’re finding a fabulously terrible way to kill themselves and everyone around them slowly). No, that’s not our place to say what other people should and shouldn’t do, but when it’s affecting our property and our bodies, I feel that these people should have the H.O.A. crawling up their butts for being such a nuisance.
Lately, renovations have been taking place all over our neighborhood and young couples are moving in. Everything is being updated and our condo complex is incredibly safe and aesthetically pretty. Yet, in all of this progress, these crusty turds squat downstairs with their lit cancer sticks, draining the joy out of owning our first property.
“So Maude, why aren’t you confronting these assholes?”
Well, dear readers, the reason is that the man downstairs looks like a hairy rapist and his wife ALSO looks like a hairy rapist. Two hairy, smoke-filled rapists + one angry little hairless, smokeless Maude = a recipe for disaster. I’m chicken shit here. I’m nervous about confronting them because they look more than capable of making our lives worse. We already have to hear the male Sasquatch hacking up his smokey old lungs at 2am every night and suffer through their blaring news viewing during dinnertime, so all of that plus the smoking has been pretty miserable. I’d hate to see what they’re capable of if they were actually TRYING to ruin our lives.
If I were just a teensy bit taller and a wee bit more brave, I’d march down there right now and give those twits a piece of my mind… but I’m not intimidating, I’m not feeling like I can handle this in a friendly way, and I’m not fucking moving to a new condo… so this weekend, I’m going to send a scathing, passive-aggressive message to our homeowners association about the issue.
And I’m busting out the H.O.A. rulebook too! It’s times like these that I LOVE being a brown-nosing rule follower.
So that’s that. Other than the practical steps, if I find a vent that we share with their condo, I’m going to toot the most unladylike, ungodly, Chipotle-chilli fart into their home.
So there.
*Stomps away childishly*
Ermahgerd Perterters 