Everyone is facebooking, blogging and tweeting (new verbs - mark 'em down, Oxford) about delightful Sunday afternoons spent in gardens, on the beach, at the pool... Drinking iced tea, sipping martinis and cocktails, laughing with friends.
I am green with envy. I had no choice. My Sunday's schedule was dictated by the way I felt and how some other things unraveled, and I am not bitter... but I'm still a little jealous.
Next weekend is a three-day weekend (three and a half really, since I am on a half-day-Friday schedule for summer) and I look forward to it with great anticipation. I foresee decadence and much gilrishness. I may even shrug off my shyness, pull on a bathing suit, just to duck in a pool for a spell.
Last night I had a marvelous time, out with friends, but my beverage count and better judgement got away from me and so by night's end, I was drunk. Happy, mind you, but quite drunk. I woke up today feeling pretty damned awful as a result (I'm so blessed - I never manage to miss a hangover), and so save one family outing, I spent most of my day on the couch, drinking water and watching Tivo.
Of course, I have to tell you some AMAZING news. It's just the best thing to happen in a while... You see, my neighbors are moving OUT. My horrible, nasty, trashy, negligent neighbors with the screamingest, whiniest toddler ever, are moving away and I am so happy about it, I am tempted to throw a party themed "Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead."
I gave them a lot of latitude when they first moved in, not wanting to make enemies of them. I'm actually a passive person and will often overlook a helluva lot in order to avoid confrontation. Eventually, though, things like the play sessions outside my room at 2am, finding the kid unsupervised playing in the parking lot, seeing the mom drunk, smoking, and teaching the child the eff-word... It takes a toll and I think I wrote my landlord two or three times with formal complaints.
The final straw came when I one night, I got home from work and ran nextdoor to the market. The market is REALLY nextdoor -- their east-facing wall is the back wall of my patio -- and I was gone for about 4 minutes (buying a soda). I'd left my backdoor cracked, and the screen door closed. I came back and started my dinner when I heard noise in the bedroom. I went back there to find my neighbors' little boy in my room, trying on my bracelets. Freaked out, I coaxed him to come back across to his apartment with me, and there, found mommy passed out in the back bedroom, all the apartment doors wide open...
There are a lot of stories like this, trust me. Point is, I was constantly disturbed and frustrated with their behavior and feeling such pity for the child, I called social services. I do not live in a secure apartment building and I was plagued with imaginings of this poor child running out to the street or really hurting himself (which ultimately he did when yesterday, he fell down some stairs because his mom was, and I quote verbatim, "too busy to watch him").
Needless to say, they did not like me too much after that. And I didn't even care. they made a couple of truly inappropriate gestures toward me after that but I only laughed, knowing that behavior only proved my point and that karma would get them in the end.
I am sad for the child stuck with these drunk, rude, ignorant people as parents but I hope he will be okay. It is my understanding that they are moving to be closer to grandparents, who actually seem, SHOCKINGLY, like normal, nice people.
And selfishly, I cannot lie, I am THRILLED for them to be out of my life. When they leave, it is likely I will never think of them again.
By the way, anyone in Los Angeles need a lovely one-bedroom? I mean, you'd wanna sage the shit out of this place, but it's actually a lovely apartment... LOL.
Anyway, tomorrow is Monday but I welcome it knowing it is the only way to get to NEXT weekend. Bring it on, Monday. If you fuck with me, I'll cut you.
On Wednesday, LOFT — a brand owned by Ann Taylor Inc. — 
