November 13, 2007
Everyone has them, it’s just that I would like to think that I live in a magical place where there’s no such thing as neighbors. Shh, I’m trying to pretend you don’t exist. My next door neighbors are the worst. They have a huge TV (I know this because they leave both their garage door and door to their house open, just waiting for me to look at their stuff) and they have what seems like 7 children. These 7 children apparently don’t go to school because they are playing their XBox at 10:15 in the morning–no, scratch that, 8:43. The wall that joins my house with theirs shakes and quivers every time they turn their dumb game on. At first I thought that maybe we were getting a special visit from the President and his helicopter was landing on our roof. I got all excited and ran up my room to put my pearls on. But after no sign of George, my heart was sad, and I had to stick refridgerator magnets into my ears to muffle the sound. One of these days I am going to knock on the door and demand that they turn it off and play a jaunty game of marbles instead. But until then, I’ll just be in my house with tiny replica corn on the cob magnets jammed in my ears.