Well it happened. My neighbor traveled into the laundry room and knocked, albeit politely, on my bedroom wall the other night. Two things were occurring at the time. One: I was listening to chillwave on Last.fm over my computer speakers, and two: I was making sweet love. Now I know it wasn't the sex, because my boyfriend accuses me of being asleep or corpse-like the whole time. I do admit, I'm not one for yelling stupid shit and I've the energy of a banana slug, so I think it must have been Boat Club. It was barely audible. Gr. Passed another kidney stone. Did it at home this time. Hurt. Still have the braces, don't have the fangs. It's weird. Half my tiny family isn't talking to me because they don't like my boyfriend. I have nightmares about it. Or that could be the chimichangas before bed.