So, yeah.

I don't consider myself to be particularly diva-esque, but I was gently persuaded to pick this back up. I had realized, after long moments of reflection and laziness, that nobody really cared to hear me pontificate, muse and otherwise babble about the goings on of the world, or my part in it.

So, there.

But, for the few of you who still drift back here and whomever you might forward this along to, here we are. Nah, that's crap. For me, here I am.

I'll probably just put on a song - today it's _ by Tv on the Radio - and give it the old one draft, no re-write try.

Here's the latest:

Moving to the downtown part of Philadelphia (they call it "Center City") in August or something.
Still living in a small town on the Delaware River. Nothing is open late; there's one excellent restaurant. It remains a 10-minute drive from any store, movie theater, or other trapping of suburban life. But it sure is quaint.

Kind of.

I live on a fairly urban street - rowhouses, close yards, and the like. And I've noticed that annoying neighbors only get more annoying over time. My next door neighbors, who run a local trash collection business - more Clampett than Soprano - have gone through varying degrees of bothersomeness. I keep meaning to have them investigated by the EPA, given the oxygen tanks in their yard - at least I hope they're oxygen tanks - and doubtless other nasty, nasty stuff that they probably should leave lying around their property like some sort of garage sale.

The warm weather has brought back the People Across the Street Who Stand Outside Talking Loudly and Smoking Newports. We know what brand they smoke because, well, when one goes in the house, another yells, "BRING ME SOME NEWPORTS!" loud enough for us to hear in our house. Which is on the second floor.

And I may very well take out the little rat dog across the street that sits in a third-story window and barks at my dog every. single. them. my dog goes outside to Do His Business(tm). My dog has a fairly severe case of social anxiety disorder, thank you very much, and he's made quite nervous by angry barking. The space outside my foyer is my space, Rat Dog, and if you don't like it, I feel for you. I am now walking my dog past Rat Dog's yard often, with the hopes that he'll start peeing on the trees and light poles on sidewalks near their property. So far, so good. I want Rat Dog smelling my dog's urine in his dreams.

But these are minor annoyances. My place is large, inexpensive and rather quiet, considering. But because "everything's going pretty well" is both a jinx of a statement and a boring post, I thought I'd share the neighbor stores.

I do, also, have a newer bag:

repliedtoall.blogspot.com



There. Until next time.