Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Bedtime story

Here are the places I have academic transcripts: University of Washington, University of Michigan, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Western Washington University, Seattle University, and Central Washington University. I'm saying this because yesterday I spent the morning ordering updated sets of transcripts for my employer. Yay!

Today is the last no-obligation day of summer break. Classes start not-this-Friday-but-next (yes, I know it's odd they start on a Friday). Until then, I have meetings, appointments, a leadership seminar, and scheduled repair of water damage (but not leak).

The weather this morning is cool and cloudy, and I'm glad. It's been way too hot here lately. There are a lot non-northwesterners in this town who have a strong emotional response to hot weather, but still complain of discomfort. "OMG, it's like a sauna, it's gorgeous! And I can't breathe!" Me, I enjoy the cooler weather, even if it's gray. I can be dress like a longshoreman, and that's really all I ask of the weather. Let me dress like a longshoreman.

Last night during Conan O'Brien I heard somebody pounding on the neighbor's door. Loud, constant, insistent pounding. I thought, oh, I wish those trashy neighbors would get cholera and die. Then after maye 20 mintues of pounding some of the other neighbors started coming out of the woodwork, talking to the pounders. It turns out that the pounders were the Seattle Police, responding to a noise complaint.

The neighbors in the next building do not get along. One is ambagel and the other is a tang�. They hate each other, and occasionally they try to blast each other out with their loud music. We expect this behavior from the tang�, because they are really tang�, but we were surprised to learn that the noise complaint was called in by the tang� against the ambagel. Interesting twist. So apparently the tang� was talking to the police, acting like a victim, saying she had kids and they just don�t understand. I should note here that the tang� are a worthless, lying pile of crap without shame that will exploit any and every immediate situation; they think they'll never get caught.

So now there's at least eight SPD crawling all over the place, chatting loudly about how they don't like condos, chuckling how they would never live in the city, how loud the music is.... Basically, being way louder than the loud music. Btw, it's 1am. And lest I forget, they are pounding on the door, and now yelling "Seattle Police!" The neighbors are all up and around and trying to help the cops, but ambagel is not answering the door, the phone, the cell phone, nothing.

One theory is that she cranked the music to eleven and left. But the neighbor boy crawling over the fence can see that her car is parked in the spot!

So after about twenty more minutes of this situation, a call comes over the radio, and our men in blue go sprinting to their cars. Their tires squeal and kick up gravel and I can hear their heavy police cruisers growling to the attack as they speed away. When they get to Rainier Avenue, they turn on their sirens, and I can hear that they're joining more sirens. Something big is going down. Somewhere else.

And that's the end of that story.

About a year ago, when I got back from Guatemala, I made an effort to create be more deliberate about creating a narrative in these blogs. When I ran out of stories, the blog became about what I'm thinking/what I'm eating. There have been stories I've withheld, like the traffic accident in the family car.

I wonder what my year would have been if I hadn't blogged it. How did people remember their past before blogging?

I'm hungry, time for breakfast.

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