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After a laundry marathon this weekend, I feel like my time off was cut short. (By the way, thanks Devlyn! Baby Kitty came out and let me get within 3 feet of her while singing a stupid Baby Kitty song! My plan to get her to like me is well under way.) Then most of my night last night was caught up in this incredibly strange dream where I ran into this awful ex of mine and we decided on the spot to get married. So in my dream I basically eloped with this jerk who called me a liar about some important stuff a number of years ago. And believe it or not, but in my dream we didn't live happily ever after. Shocker!
The irritation of the weird dream was nothing compared to the exXxtreme irritation I felt all weekend towards the little Mormon newlyweds who are subletting upstairs from me this summer. Honestly they are nice enough kids (and by "kids" I mean "young adults aged around 25-ish"). My guess is that they have not ever lived in an apartment before. Or at least never in a downstairs unit. If they had, they might realize that it really isn't polite to stomp, run, tackle, dance, nervous twitch foot tap, bounce, or walk like an elephant. Constantly. Night and day, and especially night. Now I know it isn't nice of me to turn my television up to 20 or slam cupboard doors, but I really feel it is up to me to remind them that they do have neighbors. Gah! I need to do more yoga. The stress of what are frankly minor (even though CONSTANT) irritations is bad for my health. Breathe in, breathe out.
Now I am at work trying really hard not to freeze to death (when it is 66 degrees outside, it isn't necessary to have the a/c pumping Building Services), but really I would like to go home and finish all the stuff I never quite got around to this weekend because what with all the laundry and cupboard slamming I didn't perform any vacuum surgery (I maybe sucked up some dead plant leaves that maybe clogged up the inner workings and now my vacuum blows instead of sucks, maybe) or make it to the fabric store to pick up the rest of the pieces of my red dress (a zipper is pretty essential at this point and I don't have an extra in my notions storehouse). Why can't all weekends be at least three days. Or more?
