Monday, October 24, 2011

I think I know what inspired Squeaky Fromme's name (not to mention her claim to fame)

Lessons learned from the neighbors # . . . oh hell, I've lost count.

I would give anything if my upstairs neighbors, who seem to be unable to go one solitary night without screwing, would buy a damn bed that does not squeak.

Every evening, between 9:30 and 10:30, it's the same routine. And if I get no direct or indirect benefit from it (and trust me, I don't), then I don't want to have to listen to it every night.

I'm thinking they also need to take their child in for a hearing check, 'cause if the kid can sleep through this every night, he's stone-cold deaf.

Which, come to think of it, might explain why he's the world's noisiest child: He just can't hear what a little floor-stomping, wall-pounding, crying, screaming unholy terror he is.

That or he's acting out some subconsciously repressed rage over hearing Daddy bang Mommy every freakin' night.

* * *

Better times may be just around the corner. I have a lead on a new apartment, a townhouse, an end unit, no less, with lots of room and lots of privacy, and no upstairs neighbors. Fingers and toes, muffins, fingers and toes.

But then what will I have to bitch about?

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