Been saying this phrase a lot lately: I'm not going to miss that.
I've been saying this one, too: I am going to miss that, though.
At the bus stop: I'm going to miss that youngster I've been watching grow up. He's shy and bookish, and right now he's in that awkward, geeky phase boys go through right before they turn into either Adonis or one of the Goth teens--all piercings, black clothes, and eye makeup. Can't tell which way this one's going to go, and I wonder what he'll look like when (if) I see him again.
I am most decidedly not going to miss the creepy guy I call Twitch (only in my head. I'd never call him that to his face. I try not to address him at all, actually). I don't know whether he's OCD or something more serious. He never stands still at the bus stop, does the same series of moves and gestures over and over. He carries on muttered conversations with himself, and (here's the creepy part) pays way too much attention to me. Looks at me a little too long and hard when I walk up to the bus stop. Listens too closely to conversations I'm having. When I stand there reading a book, I can see him out of the corner of my eye cocking his head sideways to read the spine. The few times I've gotten on the bus ahead of him (instead of staying behind him so I can see him), I have to make sure I sit somewhere there isn't room for him to sit beside me. 'Cause given the opportunity, that's what he does--too close, of course. Bye, Twitch. Won't be seein' ya.
Laundry: I'm not going to miss dragging my dirty clothes across the complex to wash them. But I will miss random conversations had while waiting for a dryer to become available.
Utilities: I will miss having my utilities included in my rent. I won't miss sharing a water heater with three other apartments, however. Nor will I miss substandard electrical wiring. The lights dim for a fraction of a second when I turn on the power strip that I use for my computer equipment.
Neighbors: I have a nice upstairs neighbor. Friendly, polite, considerate, quiet. Gonna miss her. I won't miss hearing her every footstep, though.
Animals: I know more of my neighbors' dogs by name than I do the people who own them. Peanut, the cocker spaniel on the other side of the building. Pebbles, the tiny Yorkie next building over. Tucker, who I first met as an 8-week old puppy, now grey around the muzzle and getting decidedly fat. The beagle next door, however, I will feel no nostalgia for. He bays incessantly when his owner's away too long. (Bowwww! Bowwww! Bowwww! All. Night. Long.) I won't miss that.
The joys of renting: I will not miss this cramped little apartment, with its one window, no airflow, no sunlight (unless it bounces in off the snowy hillside at wintertime), tiny kitchen, and weird electrical set up -- the light switch for the kitchen is in the bedroom. Huh? Nor will I miss the maintenance folks who wander in whenever they feel like it, maybe giving you a day's notice if you're lucky. (Note to self. Stash an extra key in desk at work, to guard against locking self out of nice new home that no one else can get into without permission). One thing I will say for my little mouse-hole: it has a nice built-in bookcase that I'm definitely going to have trouble replacing. Just Cabinets, here I come again!