Location, Location, Location

As I have alluded to before, the leasing company that owns my apartment building seems willing to list anything and everything as a special "feature" that comes with signing a lease on Dakin street. The glorified window sill off my front window is a "balcony."On Thursday, I overheard the little clouded window in my shower referred to as a "bonus" because of the "incredible natural light" it provides. (Lies, I tell you. All that little window provides me with is a little extra anxiety every morning as I wonder whether or not anyone can see in from the outside. I assume the answer is "no," but how can I ever really be sure?) And, as I have listened to these ridiculous pitches over and over again, I can't help but wonder why the leasing agents continually ignore my absolute favorite "feature" of the apartment. My apartment doesn't exactly have a stellar view. From the front, I overlook the street below and a newly renovated condominium building. And, from my bedroom, I would stare directly into the balcony and living room of my neighbor, but because I loathe the idea of opening the blinds at the wrong time and having an awkward eye contact moment with said neighbor, I've decided it's easier to just never, ever open that window or remove it's covering. Simply put - I don't have the skyline or lake sightings many Chicagoans can boast. So, my favorite part of all the scenery that surrounds my living quarters is a little piece of landscaping I've come to know as "the break-up tree." You see, when you look into the branches of the tree only a few steps from my front door, you see a lovely array of men's clothing that I assume must have landed there after being tossed out an open window during some sort of argument over recently discovered cheating. (Sometimes, when I get really carried away, I imagine that you could hear the screaming all the way down the block and there might have been some Usher "Confessions"- level bad behavior going on.) The best part of the break-up tree is that it is a gift that keeps on giving. Sometimes, when there's a storm or a particularly strong wind, yet another piece of men's clothing falls from the tree to the ground. This morning, it was a pair of boxers. (With all of the stuff that continues to fall out of the tree, I don't think our philandering ex got away with much of a wardrobe after the fight.) And, while this may not be what everyone would consider the best part of living in my apartment, I think it is as equally valid as the non-existent balcony and natural lighting being touted on a near daily basis by paid "professionals."