A baby celebrated three months of excreting yesterday! Guess how she celebrated that. Just go on and guess. Keeping her alive all that time was approximately ten trillion times harder than keeping Sea Monkeys alive, and that’s hard anyway.
She’ll never learn to read because we can’t afford reading now. Mr. H toted up what his comic book collection would be worth, and we had a little moment of ka-ching! But then he called his parents and found out they gave it away at a yard sale recently. Oh, snap. Oh.
The locals on the Yahoo! Group continue to infuriate me. They are now calling pre-meetings for meetings. If I wanted to go to meetings about meetings, I’d have a goddamn job. There is an issue with flood insurance that may end in litigation with the management company, and one bokka booka crazy woman suggested that someone go to the registry of deeds and compile a list of people who actually owned when the flood took place, so as to exclude people who did not own at the time from the meeting. Yes, because PEOPLE LOVE TO GO TO EXTRA FUCKING MEETINGS THAT DON’T CONCERN THEM. People volunteer to attend meetings left and right, and it takes some super sleuthing to stop them. Everything is a conspiracy.
I get the idea you and I could swap neighbor stories all night, in between cleaning up excretion. Well, you would be cleaning, and I would be in the other room with a glass of wine. But anyway. Why are neighbors amplified by the internets exponentially worse than the other kind?
Also, I think DJBS may be at that meeting.