Every since I left home at the tender age of eighteen, I've always lived in apartments. I've never wanted the responsibility of owning a home, and my lifestyle has never warranted the purchase of one.

However, every time this asshole in the adjacent apartment starts stomping around and [what seems like] moving furniture, I always wish I had investigated that possibility of home ownership ...a stand-alone house, disconnected from any neighboring edifices, with a surrounding moat ...okay, at least a lawn... so I wouldn't be subjected to the comings and goings of inconsiderate neighbors with their boisterous demeanors, loud conversations, and all the other intrusions into my otherwise quiet and serene environment.

Winston Churchill once said:

"This is not the end.
It is not the beginning of the end.
But it is perhaps the end of the beginning."

Well, I have to disagree. This is, in fact, the beginning of the end. And so it has begun.