Cardboard Jungle!

Yup, that's pretty much what our apartment looks like. I swear Rick's going to come home to find me mummified in packing tape. Anthony has a new game, mommy puts something in the box, then he tips it over. I've begun limiting packing time to his nap schedule.
Sitting in this apartment over the last two weeks, I've discovered all the lovely things of compact living that I will never miss.
The construction crazy nutball who lives downstairs has taken to hammering away until the late hours of the night, only to restart at around 8AM. I am so close to taking a crowbar to her skull. She somehow knows to start right around the time I put Monky down for a nap.
My immediate neighbors (the party happy morons I complained about a while ago), leave their grungy mut of a dog outside in their tiny shithole of a yard, causing it to bark and whine endlessly. Not only is it fucking cold out, but their yard resembles a toxic waste dumping site (smells like one, too), so that poor thing is just basically being abused. Unfortunately, Animal control doesn't quite agree with that assessment, so I get to hear Fido crying out for mercy at 2AM.
The fat hipo of a bitch who lives diagonally above me has formed a grudge against her downstairs neighbor (who is a friend to me). She delights in spreading bread crumbs and crackers along the ground in front of Sandy's car, and claims she's feeding the birds. What she's really doing is setting a lovely minefeild for poor Sandy to walk through at night, and feeding the new racoon population in our area. I had one of the little critters jump out of our dumpster the other night at me, hissing like crazy and scaring urine into my pants. I've been tempted to leave a crumb trail right up to the hefer's door, all the way up her stairs, just to see how she likes it. Maybe the racoons will follow the trail, bite her ankles, and give her rabies. That would make me chuckle.
The dipshit who lives above me is quite a clutz, and is constantly dropping shit on the floor and slamming his doors around. I wonder what would happen if I hammered a few nails into my ceiling?
Getting ready for our new home has not been without trials, though. It took me five damn phone calls to figure out who I needed to set up a trash pickup account with. And our new phone company, the bastards over at Verizon, have let me know they will be taking for fucking ever to get my internet access hooked up. Nice that they warned me in advance. Helps me to prepare my vocal cords for the untold amount of screaming into a cell phone I may have to do. We're moving on the 22nd, and although I set the phones to start on the 15th, they won't have my access set for the very end of November (if I'm lucky). So if ya'll don't hear random updates from me between moving and December, you now know why.
Well, I have to go back to packing. it's scary when you realize you have more boxes labeled "Toy Collection" than virtually anything else in the house. Heeheee...