Today a little note was slipped under the door from our landlord (who lives right below us).

"It's looks like you don't care about people who live in this building by walking and pushing you stuffs everyday any time even people are sleeping especially us in Unit 1. Please try your best to fixe this situation."

I don't like when people jump to conclusions about me (because the noise at night is totally all me; Cormac's always gone to bed by then).

I also don't like it when people write angry assumptive letters.

Thirdly, I dislike the butchering of the English language.

You're our landlord, sir. LEARN TO SPEAK ENGLISH, PLEASE.

Sorry.

I like the guy well enough. He always smiles and says hello to me and asks me how my day was. But this is just weird.

Anyway, I wrote him back a letter saying the noise was probably me, not Cormac, and I knew they were sleeping and was already making an effort to keep quiet (I do little at night beyond sewing at the table and watching movies; it's not like I'm doing aerobics). Also, I made it very clear I don't move my stuff around at night (because I know other people are sleeping) and he's probably just hearing me pushing the chair back from the table.

I said I'd look for those felt chair pads to make the chair quieter, apologized for keeping him awake, and signed it.

The problem with Cormac and I is that we keep opposite schedules.

He's up at 6:30am every morning and moving around then, and I'm up 'til midnight every night, and moving about (though I try not to do it much).

Ah well.

Oh yes, and just for the record, boys are stupid.

Especially Paul.

I am officially on a Boy Free Diet.

Bleagh.

.

Rosie.

Before&After