I Think I Know What He Was Washing Up From

The porntastic neighbor, while in the shower, had a halogen light fall onto his mattress catching it on fire and burning his apartment down. To put out the fire, the firemen knocked out my ceiling rendering the apartment unlivable. Although my apartment suffered no fire damage, the smoke damage was extensive. I understand minor disasters have a way of opening up more of one's life to the outside world than normal, and having every book, magazine, and article of underwear I own cataloged by cleaning companies for insurance purposes, has lead to a level of official exposure that I'm not used to. Not that it is entirely uncomfortable, but it is unusual. Simultaneously, I am quite glad that unlike my neighbor, I do not have to catalogue a massive porn collection and argue that the replacement value for the director's special edition set of lesbian spank inferno I, II, III is more than each title individually.