Yesterday was Mr. H’s birthday. He is now Old. How sad for him! To celebrate, we tried sneaking away for dinner after a baby was asleep. Of course a baby opted to wake up and vomit all over his sister. Still, that was the best glass of wine and speed-eaten entree I’ve had in months. We returned to find a baby fully alert and talking to a stuffed bear.

Yahoo! Groups: tool of the devil? I read through 50-odd messages from the bitches who are vying to be condo board president for our complex. People are complaining that as the temperature drops, the windows are drafty. Someone was spotted pulling a door open by holding the key in the lock. Someone’s parking spot has a pot hole that collects rainwater. People want parking stickers for our DEEDED, NUMBERED parking spots. Now, we don’t even have an association yet. The complex is under control of the management company until December, when we can technically form an association. This sticker decision was made by some sort of pre-association cabal, drunk with the power of reply-all. Unless I get to go to a meeting and vote/complain about it (I will make a baby raise her hand too), it seems slightly premature to be pricing out the printing of stickers. When someone is in my spot, I don’t really care if that person has a sticker or not. I know that person is not me, and hence I am justified in calling the towing company. So simple and elegant. I guess some people really enjoy a rousing game of “one of these things is not like the other one!”

No, the actual logic is that people are fiercely protective of the single visitor spot. OK, then, with the aid of stickers, we’ll be able to see if the person in that spot is a resident using it for selfish purposes, like leaving a second car there for twenty minutes while he drops something off. Then I suppose we must take down the license number, go look it up in the office, and nail a dead woodchuck to his door. Or perhaps we can arrange a time to stand around with torches and pitchforks. This time will be arranged using the Yahoo! Group. No, it can’t be Sunday night, because Shelly is going to be out of town! This is too bad. Shelly loves a good public whipping. Hey guys, if you need me, I’ll be boiling some oil!

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