So last night Jenn and I decided our downstairs neighbor was dead. This is based on some pretty shaky evidence, primarily that his car has been parked out front for a week with a ticket on it, his lights have been off all week, and he hasn’t been out smoking at all. So either a) he’s on vacation, is a moron, and forgot to move his car or b) he’s dead. He’s totally dead though.

We did some hardcore investigation online to see if we could find his phone number and call him, because he’s too weird and creepy for us to knock on his door and as him if he’s dead face to face. But alas, it was impossible to find him online anywhere. All we had was his first name, the first initial of his last name, and the fact that he was in the air force, according to his license plates. It may sound like we’re stalkers, but in reality, we just really care for the life of our neighbor that we absolutely despise. I was pretty surprised though, that in this day and age, it was impossible to find anything about someone with that sort of information. Burbank is not a big town. At least, I don’t think so. I know next to nothing about it. 

In other news, my ceiling started being all drippy again last night, right when I thought I was ready to sleep in my bed again. I refused to move my Ikea bed slats again because they’re so awkward and hard to handle. Instead I just covered them in towels and set up a bucket. The water stain on my ceiling is now gargantuan, and it looks like our upstairs neighbor has a huge cat that peed, and it leaked through. Except we don’t have an upstairs neighbor. We have a downstairs one, though. At least, we used to.