A smashing end for Jupiter explorer
Cold Update: Hour 20

My chain-smoking laundry-challenged top-floor neighbor

The guy who lives in the top-floor apartment directly above mine is a champion chain-smoker. I’ve walked outside and seen him with three cigarettes going at once, in the act of lighting a fourth from one or more of the already burning smokes. Unreal.

He also seems to be completely unaware that the dryer supplied by the apartment management has a lint filter, and that this filter should be cleaned, if not after every load, at least once a week or so (based on the amount of laundry I do, anyway).

This leads to a couple of REALLY FUCKING IRRITATING THINGS for me.

In no particular order:

  • Like most smokers, this person believes the world is his personal ashtray. Specifically, he takes for granted that ashes and cigarette butts he flicks off his balcony somehow disappear into Ciggie Purgatory with no further effect on the environment. This is, of course, a wholly false presumption, as attested to by the coating of ashes and pile of cigarette butts I had to sweep up about 15 minutes ago.

  • I believe this person’s lungs are the biological equivalent of Swiss cheese, if his coughing fits are any indication. But he usually follows up a violent cough attack by firing up another cancer stick, as if he just completed a particularly satisfying sexual experience.

  • He has several Smokin’ Buddies with whom, twice now, he has engaged in loud and/or moronic arguments about politics or movies or cars or whatever at really irritating times of day, namely after midnight.

  • Occasionally I look out my living-room windows to see a charming lintstorm drifting down from on high. When it’s over, I have to grab my snow shovel and fight my way through the drifts accumulating on the patio so it doesn’t look like I was attacked by a vengeful cotton-candy machine on a PMS day.

The management of the complex in which I live has asked that residents (we aren’t “tenants” anymore) who wish to complain about other residents’ behaviors/smells/noise/whatever do so to the management office, rather than to the residents in question. Normally I disregard this, but the time I did go up there to ask him to please clean out his goddamned lint trap and oh, while he was at it, stop flicking cigarette butts off his balcony, he didn’t answer his door even though his coughing clearly indicated he was home.

So off to the office I go tomorrow.