Earplugs and Vodka

Today has been a test of my patience. Like, the SATs of patience. Upstairs neighbor walked around in his shoes for about 20 minutes this morning, then when he was taking a shower, stompy tried on some stiletto heels.

Then, the construction workers who are working on the house kitty-corner to our apartment building joined the chorus with their drilling and sledgehammering. That was fun.

So I came to the front of the house. And DPW started jack-hammering in the streets. Yey.

There was some peace for about two hours, but then stompy dragged a dead body down the stairwell did something so noisy in their stairwell (which is adjacent to the length of our apartment), I couldn't even imagine what was going on. Turns out she was sweeping. SWEEPING!

I know this post is going to come off as typical angry me, but the reason I even felt the need to write it down is that I think that today wasn't actually so bad. These things happened, almost consecutively, and for long enough to cause disruption in my work flow, but I got through them. If I'm not going to have a heart attack at 26, then I should probably learn how to let these things happen without my anger, because they're going to happen, anyway.

Every day is a new day. I would go upstairs and reintroduce myself to stompy, apologize and gift them a bottle of wine (and maybe some slippers), but that would require I be a bigger, better person. I'm not quite there, yet. For now I'll stick to earplugs.