This One Time, in My Apartment Building ...

At 11 a.m. this morning, I learned the very happy news — it's thrilling, really — that my new neighbor next to my living room plays the flute. Oh joy. And it's no American Pie kind of thing. Instead, I wish she'd stick it where the sun don't shine. What's worse: her twittering away on that high-pitched, silly-sounding instrument, practicing the same scales or lines of music over and over, or my former neighbor, who was prone to playing the same Shakira or Gwen Stefani songs over and over and over? The answer is neither. They both suck. I give this new girl a week of annoying me until I complain. Have I mentioned recently that I can't wait to move?