Tuesday, September 22
There is a pause in the exasperation.
"Yes, I mean it: NOW."
We have new neighbours but I'm not sure exactly which apartment they have rented but I can hear them loud and clear through my bathroom drains. Loud and freakin' clear.
Ai, the joys of apartment living.
These new neighbours obviously have offspring which is unusual in this building full of decaying folk. Oh, that was slanderous ageism there -- bad motherbumper, bad. But seriously, the majority of the peeps we pass in the hallway are totally bench pressing a hundred - easy. Many of these octogenarians and octogenarian-wannabees are nice, many are nasty, and many smell like they've been attacked by an Avon rep; most days, walking through our lobby is like running a rest home gauntlet.
For the record I love old people, in fact some of my closest friends are old people.
*sigh* I miss how the elder locals used to ignore me before I became a parent. Now I have to try to outrun some of them and their unsolicited advice -- or worse, their poking fingers that try to touch my child in what I assume is an attempt to steal her youthful pixie gold.
Anyhow, new blood in the building:
For the past week, whenever I'm in the washroom, I can hear the new neighbours. A yelling child and a sometimes-sounding-exasperated woman. Their voices come up (down?) through the drains and temporarily distract me from the swarm of fruit flies around my head.
It's weird hearing a child's voice instead of an extra-loud episode of Law and Order or Lloyd Robertson reading the national news. I swear that who ever lived in the pipe-amplifying apartment before this family, had one of those reverse Whisper 2000 units attached to their television. Or maybe they had the telly in the bathtub. All I can say is that idiot box was loud.
But back to the new child: Sometimes I wonder if this kid is around G's age. Maybe I should try to seek them out to see if they are playdate material? Maybe the mom is my kind of people. It would be nice to know someone in the building who isn't rushing to knock off a few points on the bucket-list.
But then I remember my crippling shyness and general all around awkwardness and realize that even if I found them and they didn't think I was stalking them, I'd probably alienate them somehow. Blurt out something inappropriate, make offensive small talk, fart.
So I'll just keep sitting around, swatting the fruit flies away while wishing I could get my head out of my butt long enough to demonstrate to my child that making friends isn't really that hard at all. Because it isn't, is it?
Yup, this is my useless filing system: ignore me please (don't)