...And the reign of Miss Poundie Feet is over. She is our ~115 lb upstairs neighbor who paces the apartment like a caged jaguar but with foosteps that sound like Thor's hammer. She has a much larger fiancee who can scarcely be heard. One night, she went back and forth across a small area so many times, the only thing I could imagine she was doing was building a towering house of cards but sadistically had put her card pile 15 feet away from the structure. In a bleary 5:30 a.m. haze, I fantasized about paying for her trip to intern with the Blackfoot Sioux, a people who can sneak up on a dozing buffalo without breaking a twig.
Yes ! Julie made a face-to-face plea (at 6 a.m. -- desperate times call for desperate times) but all that got us was a very pleasant visit and some cookies. The pounding continues. Just another chapter in my forthcoming book : "Renting: A Steady Stripping of Your Humanity, Insidiously Sapping Your Will to Live" (and I wonder where Owen gets his dramatic streak...)
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