Frying Pan, Meet Fire (Neighbor Edition)
Some of you might recall my grousing about Horn Man, our French-horn-playing neighbor. (I live in a townhouse; the walls have never seemed as thin before...) My relationship with Horn Man came to a head about three weeks ago, when he decided to serenade us at 12:30 in the morning. I left a furious note on his door the following morning, threatening to contact his landlady and the police if he ever repeated such a concert.
As luck would have it, that was a parting salvo - Horn Man's lease was up on 12/31. The landlady is back, visiting from her retirement residence, several states away. She's deep-cleaning (apparently Horn Man did not clean once for the year that he lived there), replacing the carpet, painting, etc. Today, I hear the carpet crew in there, banging away with their knee-kick tools to complete the installation.
So. The place goes on the market on 1/18. I only hope that our perma-neighbors are good ones.
Mindy, typing with crossed fingers
As luck would have it, that was a parting salvo - Horn Man's lease was up on 12/31. The landlady is back, visiting from her retirement residence, several states away. She's deep-cleaning (apparently Horn Man did not clean once for the year that he lived there), replacing the carpet, painting, etc. Today, I hear the carpet crew in there, banging away with their knee-kick tools to complete the installation.
So. The place goes on the market on 1/18. I only hope that our perma-neighbors are good ones.
Mindy, typing with crossed fingers