Finding Joie de Vivre

See these buildings? They are in our apartment complex. I ripped these pictures off of our apartment complex website to illustrate the story of how I accidentally threw DJ's car keys onto our neighbor's second floor balcony. We live on the third floor. Long story short, I throw like a girl.

But enough about that story, aren't these pictures great? Doesn't my apartment complex look like shangri la? I have two words for you:

False. Advertising.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate having a comfortable home to live in. However. I've lived in these apartments for three months now. I've used the gym. I've never once seen this going on in there:On the other hand, I have heard of DJ's coworkers taking chips and b..., I mean, soda into the gym and sitting on the weight lifting bench to watch TV. Talk about luxurious living!

I haven't done any of this, either:

Although I would love to learn how to play the guitar. How is it possible that I've lived in Nashville for three months and I still don't know how to play the guitar?! What am I doing with my life?! I guess I did learn how to make really good corn bread, so that's something...

Get a load of this couple:

I've never seen them around the complex. Hmm. Don't they look like they have a passionate relationship? Here's their dialog:

Javier: "I've been a fool, my orange blossom. Won't you forgive me?"

Natasha: "Stop it, Javier. I will never forgive you for what you've done, no matter how much cologne you wear, or if you shower me with lavish gifts and champagne."

Javier: "Your smile is a warm sunrise, your voice is like a choir of baby angels, your kneecaps are like ripe nectarines...." (he begins sniffing her hair)

Natasha: (swooning) "Oh, Javier! Ours is such a passionate relationship! Just like Julia Roberts and that Brazilian guy who looks like Robert Downey Jr. in Eat Pray Love!"

I'll be honest, I envy Natasha a little. Aside from the fact that she obviously leads a life of luxury and ease, she has a certain joie de vivre that I have been lacking of late. Here's to you, Natasha.

(Of course, I doubt Natasha has ever heard her three-year-old son yell, "Mom, you're missing my poop!" from the bathroom. Poor Natasha.)