The never ending day

Its been a long one today. I worked last night, came home ang grabbed two hours of sleep, and then drove out to ick up my son. Mind you, I had worked the night before as well, and yesterday got very little sleep thanks to the mutant children upstairs. (I'll get back to them) After dropping off my son at the new place, it was time for a mad rush over at the old place, wading through boxes and dragging large items of furniture onto the porch. The truck my new neighbours were generous enough to share with us was only available for an hour, so it was a bit of a mad rush. At last we had navigated the furniture up and down two sets of icy stairs... I finally have my bed back, and my coffee table is no longer masquerading as an entertainment centre. Physically, I'm at the point of utter exhaustion, operating on grit alone. Emotionally I feel like a new woman--no longer living in slumlord central beneath an active drug dealership and just up the street from a crack house. I hated that place, but it was cheap (except for the heating costs), and a roof while I was in school. Now its time to actually have a real home.

Our new home is beautiful: big bright sunny rooms, new flooring throughout, heat included in the rent, bay windows in the living room, and enough bedrooms for all of us. It does have one drawback--the mutant children upstairs--but on the whole its about 500% better than the old place, and its in a better area. If there is drug trade its at least discrete and not blatantly in your face. I'm quite happy here, and feel like I'm actually nesting.

Now, why do I refer to the children upstairs as mutant? Simple--they were born with pogo sticks instead of legs, and springs in their feet. All day long they thump, bump, and gallop pell mell back and forth. It sounds like tapdancing elephant sized centipedes, or perhaps millipedes. My children were young once, and I completely understand the fact that kids make noise, however, I was always on my children to walk lightly, and did not ever let them jump around, teaching them common courtesy and the basic rules of being a decent upstairs neighbour. So far, the man upstairs seems utterly clueless, and its a real problem since the little buggers are keeping me from getting any sleep. I'm going to put a nicely written note in his mailbox, asking him to please try and keep them from jumping and running as much as possible. They have a huge fenced in backyard in which to expend the jumpy bouncy energy--there their antics would be cute. Directly above my bed they are anything but cute.