Please curb your child

I’ve just arrived home from my first day at the new job. In the hallway are roughly 25 young children screaming and laughing and doing all the things young children do. They’re giving me a headache, and they’re scaring Simon.

I’d like to know what goes on in that apartment. I think it might be operating as a rogue restaurant of sorts, for several times a day I hear multiple voices, running water and dishes being washed (in addition to the aforementioned urchins’ caterwauling). Why my neighbors don’t see fit to close their fracking front door is beyond me. On the bright side, the hallway often smells of freshly baked tortillas. Yum. Ish.

*UPDATE: Whisking. I definitely hear whisking.


In other news, I already love my new job. The people are friendly and funny, and I’m writing headlines again. Yay! And guess what? I was on time! And I didn’t spill anything or utter the f*ck word even once! Those of you who know me understand how remarkable this is.


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