Monday

What comes around, goes around . . .

So the constant banging and drilling on either side of my condo is getting to the point of ulitmate abnoxiousness. On one side, the Working Whistler has been renovating his new condo for the past month - bang, bang, bang, whistle, whistle, whistle, drill, drill, drill - it's about all I can handle. And when I say whistle, I mean WHISTLE. That man has a set of pipes and he knows how to use them - for hours. During Christmas I was constantly seranaded with holiday tunes, now it's just random showtunes. The WW also has a bumper sticker on his car that says something like "Real Men are Christians". Then, on the other side, my cute, half-deaf, little elderly neighbor man decided to get in on the gig and it was tap, tap, tap over and over and over and over. Sidenote: He locked himself out the other day and TJ came over and got into his house to open up his door. After all of the tap tap tapping he had been doing, TJ reported that he saw nothing that looked like it was in the process of being built or that had recently been repaired or put together. Very disappointing, seeing that TJ's speculation was that he was building a treehouse.

I suppose I can't complain too much, seeing that we did a good month worth of demo and rebuilding ourselves when I moved into my place. However, I did not have next door neighbors, and god knows I can't whistle and blow down walls.

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