yikes. everything’s packed up, shoved into boxes and taped within an inch of its life. cats are locked in the bathroom (and they are VERY unhappy about that). and i’m off to go get the freight elevator keys and await the movers showing up.
wish me luck!
would it be petty to, on this, the eve of my getting the hell away from her, write a letter to the subwoofer neighbor that just says “I FUCKING HATE YOUR FUCKING SUBWOOFER (AND OH BY THE WAY YOU MOSTLY HAVE SHIT TASTE IN MUSIC)”?
for pity’s sakes, she’s playing enya and rattling my walls with it. enya! there’s no bass in enya! she must have the bass turned up to 487! less than twenty-four hours left sharing a wall with her. i can get through this. i am strong. i can do it. but… goddammit… enya!
