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It appears that my new neighbor is not a music fan. More specifically, she is not a fan of my music.

I saw a familiar face attached to a young body, sitting on a stack of boxes next to the elevator of my building last week. She was in one of my classes for three quarters last year, and I think I said two words to her the whole time. She's a pleasant, Barbie-doll looking girl who works at Abercrombie and Finch, which is a good explanation of why I never bothered to talk to her. Anyway, if this story had a point, it would be that after a short exchange of words, I realized that she's my new upstairs neighbor, and I told her to let me know if I was getting too loud.

I immediately went to my room and tested the sound levels. Now that my left wrist is semi-mobile, all I've wanted to do is play bass, and play it loud. All weekend, I played the same 4 songs (I flatter myself, they're actually just riffs) that I've been working on over and over. Tonight, around 11:00, with my amp cranked to new levels, I heard two stomps in succession. It's good to know how much you can get away with.

Speaking of living situations, did you forget that I said I would tell you about my new roommate later? Well, I forgot about it too. I had almost forgotten about the fact that there is a person who pays rent for the other bedroom, but doesn't live there yet. She called me last week, and reminded me what her name was. With her brother, mom, and pop, she came over to measure her room.

I've talked to her parents before, more than I've talked to her actually. They're nice folks, real easygoing. They would have to be to pick up a flyer with a PBR logo advertising a room for rent, and decide that must be the place for their daughter. I guess I still haven't lost that innocent quality about me that appeals to older people. They seemed to be more concerned about the quality of my life than my parents are. They gave me their phone number, "just in case you ever need anything," they said. What I might need, I haven't a clue.

So, here comes a complete stranger to live with me very soon, but I'm not the least bit apprehensive about it. I've lived with plenty of random people; one more won't bother me. It might be a bit of an adjustment for her, but she seems like she can handle it. She plays guitar, maybe we'll get along. Then again, maybe we won't and I'll have to convince her to leave. I don't seem to have to work very hard at such things.