We Live in a Respectable Apartment

which really sucks. At our old apartment, it was very unusual to not hear someone banging on a half-clogged catalytic converter with a hammer every Saturday afternoon. Sometimes I would be shooting pucks (which I can't do in my new, respectable apartment) off the plastic sheet I placed on my back patio (which I don't have at my new, respectable apartment) and I would just sense that something was wrong. So I would go inside and ask my wife, "Babsey-babe, how come it's like a morgue outside?" She would open the door, close it, and say, "Because no one's banging on a half-clogged catalytic converted with a hammer." Now we're at our new, respectable apartment and nobody ever bangs on a half-clogged catalytic converter with a hammer. Nobody bangs on anything with a hammer. I think the reason why nobody ever bangs on anything with a hammer is that none of my respectable neighbors know how to bang on anything with a hammer. They have people for that! It also may have something to do with the paragraph in our lease agreements that expressly prohibits the banging on of anything with a hammer. The language is very clear. It says, "Tenants are prohibited from banging on anything with a hammer." Other than that and the fact that the lady who used to sell me tamales out of the trunk of her car at the old place doesn't come to our new, respectable apartment, I can't complain. The rent is $150 a month more but at least I was able to sell my truck for $500 less than I could have if the catalytic converter wasn't half-clogged. God, I miss my old apartment.

And my truck.