Dear Diary . . . day by day

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Sunday, February 21st, 1999

Well, I've spent most of my weekend sleeping. David came home Friday night with a cold (as promised), and I think my body has spent the entire weekend's energies on not catching it. Good body.
Of course, it may just be that I'm exhausted from my first week of work (not once this week did I get to bed early enough to get my full 8 hours). David got up entirely too early on Saturday morning (5am, to take Mary Anne to the airport), and only slept an hour or so more when he got back. He got up early (8am) again this morning, only to crash on me once I finally rolled out of bed around 11am. Sigh. Actually, talking about sleep like this really makes me want to go back in there and curl up next to him. Yawn!
Of course, I could get my butt in gear and go see Shakespeare in Love, which I've been meaning to see for what seems like months now. But it's a beautiful day, which makes me reluctant to go sit in a dark movie theatre. I'd rather go back to bed, and sleeping the in little dust motes that make the air so visible and sleepy on sunny afternoons. It has the opposite effect of catnip on cats.**Am I making no sense? I feel like I'm not making any sense here.
Ok, so, to sum up, David's back. I'm happy. Things seems really good between us. I fell asleep on the futon couch several times yesterday. When I woke up after dinner, I won two out of three games of Rummy (really stomping him both times). I have to move a ton of clothes and stuff back to my house after the Simpsons tonight.
That's it for now. Sorry guys, but I think I'm going back to bed for now.
Later (10:42pm): The move home seemed enormous, but it proved to be manageable. Jasmine seemed freaked, but I couldn't tell if it was because she'd miss me or because she was worried that it was David packing up to leave again. I'll believe the former.
Did I mention that David got his hair cut? His friend, Masha, has been cutting his hair for two years now, and I must say, I trust her taste. This time, she took David's shaggy shoulder length hair (which, yes, I was fond of) and cut it up all the way to his cheekbones. She shaved up the back of his neck, so the curls make a cute ledge above the nape of his neck. Oh, he's so cute! It's a bit longer in the front, so wayward curls are always falling into his face. :-)
David's got upstairs neighbors who just annoy the hell out of me. This morning, when David got out of bed at 8am, their three-year-old was running back and forth, thumping loudly, and sometimes bouncing on the bed, which is directly above David's bed. I sometimes rest there and makes little bets to myself as to whether or not he's going to run up to the bed and stop, or if this is a time he's going to hurl his pudgy little body onto the bed, making the springs groan in low tones.
Why don't we complain? Because there's another sound that comes from the upstairs neighbor: child beating. Well, we have no real evidence, and we can both vouch the child is very naughty (I've been there both times the kid purposely plugged up the toilet, causing a flood and a steady stream through the ceiling and into David's bathroom). But sometimes it sounds like the punishments get out of control. The cops have even come and cuffed the father and taken him away, but he was back in a few days. And considering that there's more noise than just them (there's a family with very loud talking women and high volume R&B music across the alley and heavy metal/acid rock boy downstairs.*), it seems a shame to get the kid hit just because he's contributing to the noise pollution, even if he can run for 4 hours straight. . Then again, his entire situation makes it hard to deal with. *Yes, that makes it nice to be home, where if it gets too noisy in the house, I can tell my roommates to shut the fuck up.
And on that cheery note, goodnight.
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