There is no soundtrack to the day. Why? Because the boys upstairs are playing some weird trance music. A bit of the original oooeeeoooeee of the old Star Trek TV Theme, mixed with some boom ba ba ba of a fake drum kit, and this odd dink dink cowbellish sound. It's been ten minutes and it's not stopping. And the boys are laughing. Laughing! I'm just waiting for the smell of incense to waft down here.
Although the story of the incredibly shrinking woman of D's building is tragic, at least she left something positive within the apartment community. I bet these guys don't even use coasters under their glasses. The horror!
In other news (or perhaps not), I am my mother's daughter. It's official and there's no point in avoiding it. The bananas have gone bad. I'm going to stick them in the freezer. So here's the inevitable question to Nana, Mom, and my quasi-Martha Stewartish friends: does anyone have a good banana bread recipe? The one that includes chocolate?
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