The State of the Apartment Address

It was just like old times, we gathered around the, well, we don't have television, but I set up my computer as a practical substitute. We listened carefully but noted the opportune moments for joke-making. The grizzled faces of the staunch, the settled. A remarkable number of bright yellow blazers. The requisite American-flag pin, a little superstition, a little costume. We figured, at the beginning, that the speech would be comprised of 1. semi-detailed support evidence and 2. a healthy dose of get a fucking grip, America. We were right and decided it might not be a bad idea for everyone to announce their annual progress to a group of peers.

The State of the Apartment.

Good evening, fellow dwellers.

Every year it is my duty to present to you the facts, as I see them. It is not an easy time, but then, it never was. We ought to first count our blessings; our low rent, the high ceilings. Our friendly landlord, just downstairs. The opening of a new coffee shop up the street.

I would like to state for the record that the mouse problem was here before I moved in. Let's get the facts straight. I guarantee that by August all of the mice will be removed from this apartment, saving us time and energy on elaborate peanut butter corner trap setups. I am creating a special commission for the eradication of crumbs from the butcher block.

I will also ask us to work together to not pull so hard on the front door handle, which continues to dismantle itself and clatter to the floor, at inopportune moments, like when you are running out the door or trying to make a stealth entrance. Together, we can do this. Gently.

If the bathtub continues its isolating behavior of clogging, I resolve to shower less. I’ll show it who’s boss. I will NOT be resigned to second best. That goes for décor, too. Stand by as we agree to paint the living room. And by God, there will be chalkboard paint in an aesthetically appealing location.

[Applause.]