The unit

Have I written anything about the unit?

Oh, the unit.

The week after the old pair of housemates moved out, I came home to find pegs and freshly turned dirt marking the previously-bare ground on the left of the Barbie Dream House (as you face it).

Barbie Dream House has now turned into Barbie Mutant Nightmare house. The neighbour, an enterprising fellow who runs the odd cockfight in his backyard (also known as my backyard), a billiards table / open air music haunt from his front entrance (we can have music all night, any night of the week) and tries as hard as he can to get maximum rent out of me (‘Can you pay 6 months ahead?’)... is building a unit stuck to the side of my house that takes away a third (the sunny, breezy third) of my verandah. And quite a lot of my sanity.

It was a cute little house, but it looks lopsided and wrong now (because they’re not building it in the same style, for starters). Apart from any of my angst about how I’d get on with the person who moved in (I do remember writing about this now – I was worried I’d get another party person, because apparently it was my old housemate who put the idea in his head, by saying their friend would move in if the neighbour built a unit), I’m just tiiiiiired of builders banging on the roof and mixing concrete (v. noisy business) out the front of my house, approximately 3 metres from my non-sealing window. It’s gotta end soon though… the roof’s on… right?