Meanwhile, across the hall...



What the hell?



WHAT THE HELL??



Three times. Three times in as many months I've witnessed the police kicking down this door. You can even see some of the painted-over remnants of cop-bootprint next to what was the doorknob (though now that I look, they look more like the painted-over remnants of the late-night hammering-out-of-huge-assed-dent-in-door courtesy of "Eddie" the building super - his idea of fixing of fuzz-busted door, apparently). This is actually the SECOND time this door's been padlocked in the last few weeks (she was apparently let back in the next day after the first time), though the note is new, and this time all of (presumably) her crap is in the hall next to the elevators.

I have no idea what their deal is/was, though pointedly putting the word "apartment" in quotation marks may be a clue. Brothel? Crack lab? Unlicensed orphanage? Other than the annoying habit of SLAMMING her door (again, the door!) every time she came and went, the only weirdness from her that I've personally witnessed (other than the cops kicking down her door three times) was the time I saw her stacking milk crates on top of a rather large desk that she had dragged from her apartment out into the hall, so that she could reach the smoke detector. For what reason, I have no idea, and (un)fortunately she ran into her apartment (SLAMMING the door) the moment she saw me.

So anyway, there's that. One down. Now do something about the 4 AM drunken karaoke-blasting idiot in _C.