So, the chronicle of the neighbours continues. I don't seem to have the best of luck in this department, but these people are particularly difficult.
But it's gone to new dimensions lately, as the sisters' mother has moved in from Australia for about five months. She's pleasant enough, but she sings opera. Every day. While I'm working. The Dude has his own issues with them. They're leaving their dog's feces baking on the front porch, as though it's their personal space rather than a common area, and it's making him nuts.
We've talked to them about our issues, left them notes, talked to the landlord. It's gotten to a point where it just seems a hopeless business to try and ask for courtesy. They're going to do what they're going to do. So today, after quite awhile of listening to opera music I had no interest in hearing, I recorded it for posterity and my own personal amusement.
Off the topic of the downstairs neighbours from down under, the Dude is away for the weekend (this is not related to him losing his mind over the neighbours and their dog's poo). I always miss him when he's gone, but I think the quiet will be good for me. I haven't had any real time alone in awhile. I like keeping the TV off, listening to bad music, and passing wind guilt free. I went to yoga, I'll probably go to the neighbourhood cinema, and maybe watch the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, all five glorious hours of it.
And no doubt I'll be treated to a free opera revue. When I was younger this would have felt like a lame weekend. Now? Bring it on. Maybe throw in a nap, too.