My crap shack

Sometimes I forget about how crappy the building I live in is, because in all honesty, my apartment isn't that bad. Reminders pop up at me when I come in the door to the building though. Hobos sleeping in the lobby, people's garbage just sitting around, the filth of the elevator and the fact that it takes about a minute per floor to get where it's going. Then there was the time a lady (I'm assuming) lost some of her underwear on the way to her apartment and let it sit in the hallway for two weeks. Tonight's reminder, while not so graphic, is just odd. I got out of the elevator, enjoying the final seconds of the music coming out of my headphones to see the picture you're looking at. Apparently now the hallway is a parking lot for our shopping carts. The cart, by the looks of where it is, belongs to my neighbours. They're a couple that look like they're in their 40's and the guy's wife/girlfriend/whatever nags him with her whiney voice all day. How do I know? Because I can hear her shrill shreaking through my walls everytime she nags the guy.
That's all for tonight. Tomorrow: things I see on my way home.