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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Tired and cranky baby

I had class yesterday and it was fun. We only meet one more time after this, and Iím considering taking the next class in the series. Most of the students are going for the certificate, so they will all show up next term if I decide to sign up. The school also offers fashion illustration classes and Iím also interested in that. But you know, Iím not made of money and the classes are not cheap. (you will all remember how disappointed I was by my community college screenprinting class, so Iíve upped the ante by attending a private art school.)

Terence wants to take a furniture class so he can have access to a shop, and can learn different joinery techniques. Itíd be cool if our classes met on the same nights so we could commute together. Driving to Westchester by myself is not my idea of fun (though in the scheme of things, itís not as bad as having to take the 10 to Santa Monica or the 101 to the 134 to the 210 to Pasadena.) Crazy LA freeway driving. There you go.

Our sexaholic neighbor just moved out. The reason she gave was that she was growing more and more frustrated with the parking situation, and I can see that. Ever since the building next door erected their stupid fence (I wrote about it here), I have been a prisoner. If no oneís around, I can easily back my car into some free spaces and pull out without a scratch or a broken plank of wood. But if all of the cars are parked back there, and Terence isnít around to assist me, I am housebound. This has been enough for me to consider moving.

Another thing making me want to move is that our building managers have invited their son, his wife and their new baby to live with them. Itís hot out, everyoneís windows are open, and the noise coming from their apartment is getting to be too much. Itís a one bedroom apartment with 5 people in it! Itís not exactly ghetto living, but still!

Excuse me while I have an ugly and embarassing classist fit.


On the weekends, the decibel level increases as they host family reunions of one kind or another. Furthermore, and this is probably the part that is really getting on my nerves, the baby cries all the fucking time. I am not kidding about this. It is maddening! I never thought I would be one of those people who deliberately avoids apartment complexes with children, but since I work at home, I am becoming one! I never get any peace! Most folks have an office to go to, or a job away from home, so they are never aware of the daylong screamy babies, the incessant mowers and blowers of the gardeners, the monster delivery trucks rumbling up this street because Fairfax is a clusterfuck...

I lived with and babysat my nephew when he was a teeny, tiny newborn. He did not cry all the time. He was a happy, cute little bean who made little gurgles and noises to get your attention. Do they need me to buy them a pacifier?

To get back to the sexaholic neighbor: Iím kind of bummed that sheís moved out. I liked her for some reason. We never ďtalkedĒ or had what could be considered a conversation, but still, I enjoyed bumping into her near the cars or garbage cans. Hopefully, the next tenant will be nice too.

8:59 a.m. - 2003-08-03



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