In Richmond Place's continuing struggle to make our lives as complicated as possible, this week is Drill Up The Sidewalk And Install Plumbing Week. Thus, we're treated to the sweet sounds of the jackhammer all day long. Even with the window closed, I can still hear them drilling, shoveling, and pushing the squeaky wheelbarrow right outside my window. And now one of the two jokers down there has decided it's karaoke day. Tomorrow should be fun - because of the little accident with the water main on Monday, they'll be shutting off the room water supply from 11 AM to 6 PM to fix the pipes. Supposedly we'll still have water in the kitchen, but one never knows...
My other minor annoyance of the day was this fellow at the gym this morning. Okay, I understand that people have different standards of what constitutes gym clothing. Tights or no tights, shorts or sweatpants, t-shirts or sweatshirts, the old dude with the bad legs who always ties a paper towel around his head like a sweatband...you see a spectrum of ensembles on weekday mornings, and it's fine. I'd even be alright with well-ripped men who wanted to go shirtless, as long as they used sweat towels on the weight machines. What's unacceptable is this middle-aged man who always wears the same outfit: too-short shorts and a matching midriff-baring shirt. I mean, this is the kind of outfit a teenaged girl might be able to pull off, but not this guy. Cut-off shirts on grown men are like male Speedos: never acceptable in public.
On a totally unrelated note, happy birthday to Cali!
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