Sunday Morning: clean house, stomach ache

So it's the Labor Day Sunday, and I got up this morning before 8:00am with the stomach ache associated with pizza and a miniscule amount of soreness in my kidney holes.

Did I mention that after the ol' renal biopsy, I never peed blood? How do you not pee blood after they pull out chunks of your kidney? Maybe I didn't bleed? Or maybe my kidney filtered out all the blood! If that was the case, I would probably never have needed a renal biopsy.

I'm thinking about scouting the church on the Eastside that's looking for a Gospel choir director. I still have a couple hours to decide to blow it off.

I bought a new reading lamp for my night stand!

So some people have moved into the drug house. I thought I saw a big truck wrapped in promotional wrap, suggesting my new neighbors were music producers... or DJs! I walked my friend A through the alley last night, and of course took a snooping glance in the window... was that a big screen tv I saw? Snoop snoop!

I think I'm hoping that they're music producers. Maybe it's Jimmy Jam. I wouldn't mind a DJ either. Too bad the Vietnamese karaoke neighbors are gone. I miss them. My theory is that people with a lot of professional gear in their house will be good neighbors, because they're worried about their gear getting stolen. I also am kind of excited about hearing fresh beats (during decent hours, of course). I only want my neighborhood to be quiet at night.

Over the summer, during the day, I could hear a jazz rehearsal on the other side of the pea patch. I can hear the drums from my place, if I go out into the street, I can hear a saxophone and bass. And then there's the blues guitar-playin' going on in the Skinny Townhouses For Yuppies (STOFYs).

I think the worst musical neighbors would be the divas: MCs, lead guitarists, trumpet players... the ones that are always turning up their volumes because they can't hear themselves.