The Complex Life In The Complex

So, I really hate myself, because I had a great blog topic for today.  Lazy me, I didn't write it down.  Why?  Too busy?  No.  Dumb?  Yes.

Anyway, I'll just tell you about the people who live here in our temporary rental place.

So, when we first moved in, there was the blonde lady upstairs.  She looks eastern european.  It was a Sunday, and she was trying to get her big black truck fixed.  First some repair guy came out and looked at it, and then it got towed.  It was back the next day or two.  Honestly, I think I've seen it leave the parking lot once since then.  She has a Lexus that she uses on a daily basis, and then she also uses a nice beach cruiser bike too.  She always seems to not be at home, and always rushing off somewhere.

There's a senior couple next to us.  They seem to be on the go for old people.  I haven't talked to them much, but they're nice.

Second to last unit (lol) there is a Haitian man and his son.  The father seems to sit outside on the concrete patio furniture to talk on the phone, and to use his ipad.  They are friendly enough.  We always say hi when we see one another.

Next to them is some guy I don't see much.  Honestly, medium height, medium build, brown/sandy blonde haired guys generally look the same to me if I don't get to know them.

Upstairs, it gets a little murky.  One of the people already there when we moved in was a guy in a shiny black sedan with a dog.  He seemed to take his dog with him everywhere.  He has a UCF license plate and a UCF license plate frame - guess he's from Orlando.  And I know he goes to his friend's house to do laundry.  Must be nice to have friends here!

There was another guy who moved in upstairs a couple days after we moved in.  He seems to be the one with the Delaware plates.  I don't know much else about him.  I think another guy just moved in with him last week, though.  This guy kinda looks like trouble.  He sure has to do a lot of laundry.  He has done laundry all day long two or three days, and he's only been here like maybe a week and a half.  It's hard to tell, though, because a week seems like a month with both of us sitting around jobless.

This black family moved in upstairs a couple weeks ago too.  I haven't really talked to them.  I can't tell if they are caribbean, or just your garden variety african american (Um, is the NAACP going to shut down this blog?  What if I say that I'm a standard first generation {or is it second generation?} Flip Child of an immigrated physician).  The other morning at like 7:30, one of them, a woman, was yelling to someone on the phone about "WHY DID YOU TAKE ALL MY STUFF?  BRING ME BACK MY STUFF?  MY NEW STUFF I JUST BOUGHT IS GONE?  BRING IT BACK NOW!"

Then there's these Brazilian girls who moved in upstairs a couple days ago.  They were partying the first night.  But, all Brazilians party all the time, right?  So, they came down the other day and asked if they could share our internet.  They said they were only going to be here for 3 months - on vacation, working at Gulfstream across the street.  Gulfstream is this terrible looking racetrack/"entertainment" and shopping complex.  The FP's goal is to never go in there.  It has West Elm and Crate and Barrel... we probably can't afford those places, so there's not too much threat of us going there.  Anyway, I gave the girls our guest wifi password.  My BFF once said that wifi passwords are for douchbags.  In this case, I feel the password is useful.  If I have to pay for internet, then I don't want anyone stealing from me.  They can ask me to use it if they want, but I don't want them stealing it.  Although, for all I know, these girls are going to bring all their Brazilian friends over and start up a speakeasy internet cafe...

And then there's me and the FP.  We have crammed all our worldly and other wordly posessions in this teeny apartment with the yucky furniture.  And we have bought a coffee table and a driftwood end table since then.  The neighbors must wonder, why when we live in a furnished apartment are we buying and cramming more furniture in our place?  Well, honestly, it is starting to resemble my parents' old house.  They had way more furniture than they needed, and they refused to give any up to my sisters, who I think, asked for some from time to time.

I mean, I've lived in worse places... but I'm glad our time here is coming to an end, even though it will probably just be a really expensive storage space over the next two months....