The couple who moved in downstairs earlier this year (was it earlier this year?), are no longer a couple. She left him in the beginning of August and a friend of his moved in. A huge, beefy, weight-lifting, no-shirt-wearing, jar-headed friend. I swear to you that, other than when he's pulling out of the driveway in the morning on his way to work, I have yet to see this guys with a shirt on. Sheila caught a glimpse of him shaving his chest in the bathroom one day. He looked like the kind of guy who might still have trouble tying his shoes, but I don't like to make snap judgments about people. Ahem.

I came to the conclusion last night, however, that this ape is actually an ape. Or maybe mildly retarded.

A VERY loud bang woke me up at about 2:30 this morning. When I say loud, I mean LOUD, like shaking the walls loud. A minute later, again. Another minute later, again. Magilla's bedroom is below mine, and I'm about to go downstairs when I hear Dave come to his room and tell him to knock it off: "I gotta go to work in a few hours, man." So, I go to the bathroom and pee because now I'm wide awake. When I get back to my room I see my cat Winnie perched on my pillow looking intently out the window at something. Then I hear the BANG again, but a bit muffled. I look out the window and see shadows from their deck on the lawn; the lights in the backyard are blazing. One of the shadows is moving (which is what Winnie was watching), and from the movement and the sound, I deduce that this Olympic-size moron is lifting weights. In the middle of the fucking night. The sound was him dropping them. He must have moved outside after Dave came to his room and thought that would be better. I'm about to go downstairs when I hear Dave again. No noise after that, except for the door slamming as Magilla came back inside.