Last weekend, Mr. and Mrs. S., of My Neighbors from Hell, officially moved out.
Gone. Poof. Moving truck came and went. And they haven’t spent a single night at the apartment since. Maintenance has been in to paint already, which can only mean they’re really, truly, utterly gone.
The blissful silence that has enveloped us from next door (in addition to the intoxicating absence of any third-hand cigarette (or otherwise kind of) smoke) has been a crushing tidal wave of relief.
The chains have come off. The doors to Shawshank have opened to reveal too bright light.
We bask in the glorious freedom!
Handel’s Messiah. Not just for Christmas!