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someone's got a grow-op in my apartment

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I almost always use the stairs to go up to my apartment, rather than the elevator. For exercise, mostly. On some occasions, though - such as when I've been lugging groceries for blocks through the thick smog of Summertime Toronto - I do take the elevator. Tonight was one of those nights.

As often happens, there was a scruffy looking kid also heading for my floor. Not one of the same scruffy kids I've ridden with in the past, but he headed for the same apartment that the others always go to. It's a trend I've noticed. Morning, noon (I work across the way from my apartment building, so I frequently come home for lunch), and night, one of my neighbours has a steady stream of young men coming to his apartment. This one had the usual hesitant approach and quiet knock.

So my neighbour's probably dealing dope from my building. I guess I'll start locking my door.

I wonder if that's an interesting lifestyle. Today at work, I learned how to do some kooky PL/SQL stuff involving in-memory tables. In a hurry, cos it was billable. And after that, I bought placemats.