The Game of Life

These 12 hour work days and two hour round trip commutes won't last much longer (Well, the commutes will) but until they're done I can't find out anything about my neighbors or my new home town.

I did find out that Ms. Squeaky Bed, upstairs, is named Sandy and that she's about as California as they get. She's probably in her 40s and it looks like all that time spent in the sun has taken the usual toll on her skin, making her just a bit lizard like. You can tell she was a real California girl at one time, though. Hell, she still is, but also a little crazy. I know this because she talks to herself as she goes up and down the stairs.

Despite the noisy trains going by all the time I think the sounds I make, coming home from work at night annoy her. I turn on some music and I can hear her opening or closing her windows. I hear her moving around early in the morning, too, when my alarm goes off. Hell, I'm not that loud. I can't help it if the walls are made of paper.

Occasionally, I hear Sandy Squeaky Bed calling out to what must be her boyfriend. "I loooove youuu!" she carols out the window in a saccharine voice. I haven't seen the boyfriend, yet. I wonder if it's the same boyfriend that Mike, the other upstairs neighbor, says busted down the door to the storeroom to get his stuff when him and Squeaky had a fight.

Ah, the drama. It goes on and on.

The claws are starting to come out at work, too. People are pretty stressed. Deadlines, incomplete work, slackers who haven't shown the potential they were hired to show, the usual things, and people are starting to feel it. The boss, who is getting it from all sides and has been given entirely too much responsibility, is starting to fray around the edges. I'll have to do something nice for her to brown nose a bit and simultaneously make her feel a little better. I know where my bread is buttered, by jingo.

Well, I need to be up again in six hours so it's bedtime.
  • Current Mood: not bad, considering