Write about: the busybody.
Getting pretty excited about Max's birthday tomorrow. We're taking him to the Desert Model Railroad, where we'll be meeting up with lots of his friends (and their parents, obviously). After that we're coming back to Kat's parents place for cake and more hanging out, as unfortunately the model railroad place doesn't have any sort of room where we could do that (I dropped by last week to check, since neither Kat nor myself have actually been there before).
Anyway, he's really too little to understand what's going on, but I hope he has a good time no matter what. Pretty sure he will, as he's gotten very interested in trains in recent months.
Fingers crossed he has a decent sleep tonight to help him be at his best for his big day. So far, so good.
The neighbours are at it again. Out there, hammering away like woodpeckers, apparently completely unaware that it is the middle of the night. This is getting terribly old... maybe I should just call the cops and be done with it.
No, no, I'm being too rash. Time to put a kettle on for tea, that's the thing to do. A warm, fragrant cup cradled in my hands always calms my thoughts.
That's better. Just right, just right.
I'll talk to them in the morning. Face to face, like reasonable, sane people do. Enough of this underhanded, behind the scenes skulking about. One conversation, that's all it will take. There's no other choice in the matter, not now.
I cannot lose any more sleep to this silly midnight fence building, waking to find higher and higher barriers between our properties. It's utterly pointless, honestly. It's like they think I can't buy a taller ladder or something...