The Drug House

So if I look straight out my front door, I see what the neighbors used to call "the drug house." I guess it was really bad in the 90s; the boys of that house ruled our little neighborhood, and the neighborhood was the most dangerous in the city.

The drug family has since moved away, and they're building skinny townhouses on my street, filled with white people who drive up my property value.

So when the ice cream truck comes to the neighborhood, I only hear it for a minute, anymore.

Not like when the drug family was there. When the drug family was there, the ice cream truck would show up and PARK in front of the drug house, for hours at a time, with the damn Turkey In The Straw song playing CONTINUOUSLY.

Selling *ice cream?* No.

And to boot, it's that stupid version with the hand claps.

(one) TWO! THREE! (four, one) TWO! THREE! (four, one) TWO! (three) FOUR! (one) TWO! THREE!....

Does the hand clapping make us enjoy that damn song more?

Anyway, the drug family is gone, so the ice cream truck doesn't park in front of the drug house anymore.

I'm so glad they're gone.

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.