If it is torture to live in the apartment under mine, because my Yanni and Ray Lynch is drowning out their Beyoncé, Selena Gomez, and Usher. If it is simply unbearable to endure my child screaming because their loud television keeps waking her up. If they can't stand the stomping because we need our sleep and their yelling and slamming doors is so important at midnight. If it is simply awful that I park one space over so my husband can park his car, and their response is inappropriate and disgusting images drawn on my windows; then I'm sorry, but there is something terribly wrong with them.
Sometimes I'd love to go down there and post notes on their door saying "let me tell you about Jesus", but that is, in a way hypocritical, and I shouldn't do that with my saviors name.
I know Jesus said to turn the other cheek, but I'm running out of cheeks!
I'm moving next week. I can be patient. I can be a good Christian. I can endure to the end.
... On a completely unrelated topic... Does anyone know where I can borrow a paintball gun from?