I have an apartment that faces the San Francisco Bay.
If you step out onto my mini-balcony you can see this...
If you stand on your tippy-toes, you can see real live water!
But these are not the only views that I have.
"Get OUT, Jane!"...I'm sure you are saying right now. "How could it get any better than that?!"
Well, if you stand on my mini-balcony and look down, you can also see this...
I have a mini-feud going with the woman in the apartment underneath me, of which this poop thing may or may not be a part. I haven't quite figured out if there is bitchy passive-aggressive poop intent or whether it can all be attributed to sheer laziness.
Some background is required here...
When I moved in to this complex almost three years ago, the Princess was eight. As many of you may know, eight-year olds, as a rule, don't walk anywhere - they run, gallop, skip, prance and cartwheel. Within the first month of our being in this apartment, the woman below us had called the police on us TWICE for, get this, "running noises".
Let me add that the alleged running noises were reported at approximately 7:00 in the evening each time. Prime after-dinner cartwheel time.
Each time a sheepish-looking police officer would show up at my door and explain the reason for his being there. I, in turn, would explain that eight-year olds RUN and what would he, exactly, like me to do about this. Never having a good answer to this question, he would blush and look totally embarrassed and mumble something to the effect of "maybe ask her to slow down?".
Both times, the Princess cowered behind me and was traumatized by the fact that the police had shown up at her apartment because, in her eight-year old mind, she had done something bad.
I'm a single-girl, so I don't generally go pounding on stranger's doors - but trust me when I say that I would have gone down there in a heartbeat with my pink baseball bat in hand if I didn't think that she would've immediately called the police on me.
After the second time, I went and had a long discussion with the complex manager about the rules surrounding noise restrictions and what exactly the concept of 'harassment' might look like.
In turn, the complex manager sent a very nice "yah, um, please shut the hell up because you're ALLOWED to run around your apartment as long as it's before 10:00" letter to the woman downstairs.
Turns out that the Princess and I can make as much damn noise as we please before 10:00 pm! She can practice her violin or pound on the piano (which I am VERY supportive of - in the interest of artistic development, of course) and I can hold happy hour parties and fart loudly out the window if I am so inclined and it's before 10:00.
I haven't heard from her since.
So what, you ask, does this have to do with poop on the patio?
Well, it also turns out the woman downstairs has a very large dog who makes very large poop and she rarely takes this big power-pooping dog outside.
So it just shits all over her balcony. This somewhat distracts from my pretty view.
I happened to mention this in passing to my leasing office buddy the other day. He laughed and told me that, with all the rain we'd been having lately, the dog shit on this woman's balcony had drifted to the drain in the balcony and clogged it up. So all of the rain water and dog poop, having nowhere else to go, flooded into her apartment.