Thank you for waking me up early Sunday morning. I meant to sleep in a bit, especially since figuring out the mystery of whatever you were doing over in your place kept me awake until about 3.00am. Are you building a rock garden in your dining room? Do you bowl down your hall? Basketball! Is it basketball you're playing in the room adjacent to our bedroom? Jai alai? Do tell! And what is it you always have to run out to your car for between 12.30am and 1.ooam, that thing that's so important it requires you to test the alarm for your car over and over again? I kind of think that making the car horn toot like that is part of your game, that maybe you're signaling your own intermission, but I don't know. This not knowing keeps me awake every bit as much as the noise you insist upon making.
But it's okay, really. I bought this house intending to live in a quiet suburban neighborhood, because I thought that was what I wanted. But you've shown me that what I really want is to live in a boisterous, urban setting again. I didn't know that I wanted that, so thank you so much for helping me come to this realization. It's like having the best of both worlds, and the constant smatterings of mystery as to just whether or not you are throwing marbles down your stairs at 2.47am are such a nice bonus. They are the candy sprinkles on the cupcake of joy I have found in living next door to you.
I've been thinking I need a really great way to thank you, though, a significant gesture that will be sure to cement my message of gratitude into your psyche. Perhaps I will arrange to have the police deliver my next thank you note. It's my understanding that when one is wanting to thank someone for making a racket, that the police are always willing to help deliver that message. Your landlord has suggested this, actually, and while I am not one who likes to make too much of a fuss, I think I might do this. Yes, it seems a bit over the top, but let's live a little!
Hugs and sunshine,
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