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CP: At least he wasn’t also banging his noggin against the wall at the same time. In the Loring Park walk-up where I lived, the guy upstairs threw Madonna on the stereo each night after “bar close” time, and let ’er blast. I’ve hated Madge ever since.
RN: Today’s rental palaces are outfitted with Pilates studios, rooftop sundecks and heated parking. In the 1980s, a rental property was considered high-end if there was a semi-functioning laundry room in the basement.
CP: Another place I rented was hit by a smell so penetrating and pestiferous that we thought we would have to move to a motel for a while.
RN: Shades of the community Frigidaire here at the plant.
CP: The downstairs neighbors had let a chunk of raw chicken fall between wall and fridge for, I dunno, a couple of weeks. In July. They seemed mildly annoyed when we demanded entry to their place to track this down. Still, we were happy then.
RN: Perhaps we didn’t know any better. It reminds me of the general lack of air conditioning back then. I’d sleep in the bathtub, sans water, and barely complain.
CP: Ah, sweet porcelain dreams of youth.
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