We have cockroaches. I see maybe five each day, and multiples of that on peak days. I squash them when: towel paper is accessible; I’m not already comfortable on my couch, La-Z-Boy or toilet seat, or; I’m not in an apathetic mood. I often find them dried up on my kitchen floor. When the benefit of discarding them is outweighed by the cost of bending down to collect them, I just walk around them.

The pest control guy visits every month. Millennium was in the apartment one such occasion and he thought there was a good chance the bug guy was actually a burglar.

My building didn’t turn on the air conditioning until the second week in May. My bedroom reached 86 degrees some nights and my cockroach problem took a backseat to sheets smothered in sweat. Besides, at that temperature critters decompose quickly.

There is a convicted sex offender living on the floor above mine. Though I believe it is a breach of civil rights to register these people on a publicly accessible website, and I have my own qualms about many of our country’s laws, this is still fairly amusing and, thus, blogable. Besides, I've seen his picture and he looks like a sick fuck.

Beyond the incredible ethnic diversity of our immediate location and building itself, we have variations in mental capacity, as well. One guy walks around like a caveman with a blank stare, and speaks in a monotone voice. He moves aimlessly through the building. Another guy talks to all the tenants, as well himself, ghosts, and the cockroaches.

Most strikingly, there is an extremely high proportion of gay people in my building. When I noticed that my landlord and her friend—the guy directly across the hall from me—are both gay, I considered it a coincidence. Then when I knocked on doors asking if anyone wanted to split wireless internet costs, I noticed several tenants were gay. And in the gym everyone seemed to know each other, and everyone seemed gay. And the only magazines near the treadmills were Out and The Advocate.

I’m no statistician, but that is unlikely to be a coincidence. The percentage of gays seems to be many standard deviations above normal. And if most reside on my floor, which may be the case, then Millennium and I are probably assumed to be gay. (Infinicuralier did tell me that the tenth floor of apartment buildings are known for congregating gays, though he may be full of shit as he often is.)

I welcome this change in sexual orientation. Studies show that gays are better educated and more affluent, and based on stereotypes they are cleaner and more welcoming than the rest of the population. In fact, I vote to make the whole building gay—maybe then the cockroaches would be forced to find a dirtier building.

Having said all that, I like living here. My landlord is very responsive, the weight room is substantial, many major bus lines pick up across the street, my apartment is spacious with fake hardwood floors and a gas stove, and it's relatively affordable with utilities included. I'm inclined to stay next year (moving sucks taint).