Those Housemates

Ah, the joys of communal living. Last night members of the house stayed awake late; I figure they were ringing their best mates in Israel or Dubai or Hong Kong, hence the very late hour (s) on the phone. Which means this morning I banged fridge doors, cupboard doors, my mug, the kettle, nearly everything I came in contact with. I was like a one-person percussion symphony. My sleep deprived brain didn't even register all of this noise until I left the house for morning meeting; by then I figured all my housemates were awake anyway--lush water sounds from the shower proved this--so perhaps no apology is needed. I may just steal the phone and tuck it in my underwear drawer and claim those rascally baboons stole it, which is very possible as we're convinced they already own watches.

Speaking of baboons, they visited again yesterday. Paddy and Vyan chased them army stealth style. Let's hope the hippies bent on saving fragile baboon emotions don't realize how much we chase the hairy beasts!