Hello friends and neighbors,
First and foremost, my apologies. It has been far too long since my last entry. To quote one of my favorite philosophers, Dr. Ian Malcolm, “Life . . . uhh . . . . finds a way.” And in this case, life found a way to get in the way. Busy couple weeks, but sadly not a “gettin’ busy” couple weeks, at least not for me anyway. But this blog isn’t about that, at least not yet. (Fingers crossed . . . ?)
If you follow me on Twitter though, you know there was a return to form. To quote another of my favorite philosophers, myself, “While I was making cookies, she was making whoopy.” My heart was warmed with the feelings of nostalgia at the sounds of the headboard banging my bedroom wall. The shitty house music, the moans, the questions of enjoyment. It was like old times.
At one point, I tried to Shazam the happy couple in hopes it would reveal exactly what they were listening (read: banging) to. Repeatedly referring to it as “shitty house music,” even if that’s exactly what it is, is not the greatest example of my written acumen. I am a wordsmith, after all. Hopes dashed, it seems my walls are not quite thin enough and, unfortunate for those of us taking a break from cookie-ing to nap, as loud as the music was, she’s louder.
They have not gotten their groove on since then, ::sad face emoticon::. And that was nearly 2 weeks ago. I’m hoping for a return to form this Saturday. Is that weird/creepy? That I hope my neighbor has (loud, obnoxious, shitty-house-music-filled) sex so I have something to write about? Don’t answer that.
Alright, that’s it for me, for now. But worry not, dear readers, regardless of my young neighbor’s amorous activities (or lack thereof) this weekend, I will be here.
--RDT
