Welcome to My 'Hood

I've lived in my apartment complex long enough to pay rent twice, so I feel qualified to make broad generalizations about the other tenants that live here. In my mind, my residency at this complex is likely to turn into a scene of Cocoon at any given moment. I mean, most of the components of the movie are already in place: pool, warm climate, a number of senior citizens - who knows, Steve Gutenberg could even live here! Does anyone really know what he's doing these days?

Before I go any further, I need to check for understanding; do my readers understand the 1985 movie reference I just made? To really envision the community in which I'm describing to you, let's take a gander at the trailer for Cocoon, complete with appearances from Wilford Brimley, Jessica Tandy, that goofy-acting old guy who is in lots of movies but no one knows his name, and Steve Gutenberg.

Let's get back to business and focus on the task at hand: the majority of my fellow tenants appear to be senior citizens. How do I know? Well. I haven't actually counted all the handicap parking spots and the percentage that are used every day, but I assume the answers are: a lot and a lot. Most of the people I see out and about are over the age of 65.

And then there's Exhibit A, found outside the apartment across from mine on Sunday afternoon...

I predict that a television set of this maturity is not owned by someone under the age of 25. And probably not someone under the age of 35. Dare I go as high as 45 or 55? Yes, I dare. In fact, I speculate that this piece of furniture/electronics is owned by someone over the age of 65. And I believe that this individual has owned this piece of furnitronics for several decades. And I also believe that the owner of this piece of electroniture was probably quite distraught when it stopped working on Sunday afternoon. I wonder if his/her Atari still works, though?

Age of tenants and furnitronics aside, the benefit of living here is that it's pretty darn quiet. The other residents here are very respectful, and I don't hear much out of them. It's a good environment in which to study. Although, if you follow me on Twitter, you DO know that there was some hooligan revving his engine for a good 12 minutes in the parking lot the other night. Kids these days and their confounded loud engines. In my day, engines didn't make a sound. Those little whipper-snappers better stay off my lawn!

Peace, love, and septuagenarians--

Emily