I'm convinced there's a decomposing rat or other furry creature beneath the staircase in my building, because every day when I get home I'm greeted by a rancid smell that no amount of Febreze will cover.

I had a friend in Dupont Circle (Washington, D.C.) who came home every day to something dripping in the lobby that had a horrible smell. It was a constant drip, and management set out a bucket. After a week of this, they finally investigated. Turned out someone had died in the apartment above, and it had been so long since the body was found that it just sort of liquified.

Hope you weren't eating breakfast.

Here's my peephole view from the front door, with the purported rat staircase to the right:



I have a cute new neighbor directly across from me who looks all of 16. The guy she lives with looks like Chris Griffin from "The Family Guy," and never seems happy.

Before she moved in, the place was unoccupied for two days and I snuck in one of those days to check it out.

It was a mirror image of my apartment, though with a view of street parking. My view is an alleyway.

If the place was vacant any longer, I was going to try to move across the hall because of the unbelievable noise that comes from my neighbor upstairs. But more on her in a future post.

As small as my studio apartment is, it actually has two entrances.

Some time ago, I think the area between my building and the one next door was walled and roofed up, then bricked together to make it look like one building.

I know the post office was confused, because the change-of-address I gave -- copied down from my lease -- was a nonexistent address. On the building door is a series of numbers, and my landlord made a mistake, though denied that mistake despite it being written on the lease. This was a big mess for a month, when I thought it strange I wasn't getting any forwarded mail. All that mail I missed, as it returned to sender.

The residual effect of this was that my final bills from the Nevada Power Company and Cox Communications never got to me, and thinking I had run off like Wesley Snipes, both electric and cable companies sent a collection agency after me. I found out when Cox bombarded my phone with recorded messages.

I keep one credit card with no balance, but it has an annual and monthly fee. That was also on the verge of going to the collection agent... for 50 cents.

That was a headache.

The woman upstairs is worse, but more on her in a future post.

I should mention one of my neighbors is a thief.

grubette sent me a coat for my birthday last month, and it was dropped off by FedEx without a signature. I never saw the package. It's being redelivered for this weekend, and once I see what the coat looks like I'll be keeping my eye out on a similarly dressed neighbor.

This may be payback for my stealing someone's wireless connection for two months. If I catch that neighbor wearing the coat, I'll consider us even.

Anyway, when they connected the buildings, they kept the staircases. Here's my view from the other entrance.



This staircase leads downstairs to the real rats down a hall leading out to the alleyway (I haven't actually seen any rats... inside, that is).

There are also unfinished rooms of rubble from some renovation gone bad or never finished. There are storage areas, which were claimed by attaching padlocks to the flimsy wooden doors. I think that's how Christopher Columbus did it.

In front of my other entrance is a large bowl that contained some sort of food pellets. Dogs are not allowed, but cats are. I haven't seen any cats, though I've heard the one from the beast of a woman who lives upstairs, but more on her in a future post.

Next to the bowl is a giant stain that smells like shit because, well, it is.

I sure am painting a rosy picture of the new grub manor, aren't I?

It actually isn't that bad at all. There's always plenty of parking no matter when I get home (despite needing to move by 8 a.m.). It's a safe neighborhood, with a school and church nearby. The El stop, which was refurbished and reopened last month, is only a block away. Three great Thai restaurants are an easy two-block walk. One of the Thai places I go to twice a week now recognizes me by name.

And I kind of like this secret entrance. Growing up with a dog who would chase me up the stairs and bark outside my room while violently pawing at my door (she wanted blood), I dreamt of having a home with dual staircases like in "Diff'rent Strokes." Just to be able to fake out the dog.

Now if I ever need to make a quick getaway, I can sneak out the back way. Even though the back way is 600 feet away and marred in shit.