last nite i made brown rice with kale and red onion and beef hip, mushroom garlic/soy/butter/green onion stir-fry because i am your mom. so it turns out one day a week the fucking hippie next door practises guitar just as i am passing out drunk so i am forced to watch tv until i am cross-eyed with a pillow on my head and fil’s cat taking up all my sleeping room and every movement i make wakes up fil and he grunts and starts breathing heavy and loud.
i considered banging on their door but i don’t think i can do that until we have at least lived here for more than a month. fuck. even then i probably shouldn’t say anything.
maybe i could mirror his guitar skills through the wall but louder.
KILL KILL KILL!
