Michael and I live in a one-bedroom apartment downtown San Francisco. It could be called Lower Nob Hill. Or the TenderNob. Or Downtown. Whatever.

Our apartment complex has probably 40 or so units and we’re close to a ton of the Academy of Art campuses. I’m not saying there’s a direct correlation between art students and raging 3 a.m. parties, I’m just pointing out the facts.

Last night I was woken up at 3:30 a.m. to the lyrics, “blahblahblah, JUMP! JUMP!, blahblahblah.” My brother informed me today that the song is by Busta Rhymes. Thanks Chris. Then, at around 3:38 a.m., the awesome music was punctuated by the sweet, sweet tinkling of glass breaking as some fool hurled a bottle out the window.

I slapped on my eye mask and rolled over, a mite huffily.

This morning, I was going into the kitchen to make myself some tea when I literally stopped, dead still, at the sight of barf covering one of the large bay windows. I didn’t take a picture of it because I thought I’d spare you. Plus I really didn’t want to have a picture of vomit on my camera.

As far as I can conjecture, some idiot barfed out the window a floor or two above us (probably after jumping around to Busta Rhymes on repeat), and since my windows are usually always pushed out a bit because I like fresh air, the lovely offerings splattered all over the bottom of the window pane.

WTF.

Oh, and our compost bin also got stolen this morning when Michael left it for a second in the laundry room to run across the street to the dry cleaners. He was literally gone for 4 minutes. Our building supervisor had two voicemails on his phone before 8:30 a.m.

City life. I did make a ton of brown sugar butter almonds yesterday though.

xoxo,

Jenn