Part two in an indefinite-part series: the utter rudeness of the new person living next door to me.
I’ve lived here for a year and a half and no one has EVER woken me up out of a sound sleep. That’s because once I get to sleep, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Unless, of course, there is some loud, repeated noise for an extended period of time fairly near my head.
Last night, it was a new big happy fun project to set off the smoke detector. Seventeen times. Within fifteen minutes. After ten in the evening. Instead of letting his new big happy fun neighbor sleep.
This morning, it is a new big happy fun project to break down boxes. Outside on the deck. At quarter to eight. Instead of letting his new big happy fun neighbor sleep.
So yes, you are right, Davmoo: it’s not just instant messaging. As far as I can tell, it’s the whole universe just this second. I’m pre-coffee, post-insomnia so I am attempting to curb many snotty impulses, the least of which is walking outside with the squirt-bottle I use to train Zen … and soaking the guy in the face. Bad neighbor! BAD!
Regarding my last rant, thanks for all your comments. You all made me feel so much better about being so annoyed. But I can’t take credit for “bobs your balaban”; I tried to give the proper attribution in the HTML but failed. So here it is: Peter, your world’s lamest catch-phrase candidate has made me the most popular girl in school. That makes you extra swell in my book!
Gotta go. Another new big happy fun project has begun: ironing plastic bags by flamenco dancing on them! Where’s that squirt-bottle?