17 September, 2006 | Leave a Comment

I am up late trying to finish a project. The downstairs neighbors appear to be throwing things out the window — furniture, glass. It’s all hitting the ground outside with an awful commotion. A while ago I could have sworn I heard a gunshot, but it must’ve been something else. Let’s hope. I know you must think I’m making this up, but I’m not. There are no raised voices, just loud crashing sounds. I could peek out the window, but I’d rather not. And in about seven hours, the demonic toddler downstairs will start screaming and the guy with the hip hop will start his racket, even on Sunday morning. I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep between now and my wake-up call? Perhaps periodically, but not very well.

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