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Posted on Friday, June 5, 2009 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

“Uh, that’s just not going to hold. I wouldn’t recommend that. It’s just got to get done. Uhhh, it shouldn’t take long. Not much longer now. You might as well put the t.v. there, that’s where it’s always been, that’s where it always will be. Um, yeah, that sounds great.” Just a sneak peek into the inner-workings of Peter’s mind.

We’ve been cursed un-beer-ievablewith a chatty DIY landlord who lives 3 doors down. Our house is his pet project, his escape from his girlfriend and her visiting family. If it’s not one thing, it’s definitely another. We’ve not had a Peter-free day since we moved in. We’re quickly approaching a karate chop to Peter’s face kind of situation. My fiance doesn’t seem to mind it, which of course makes me even more insane! He’ll stand out in the driveway, holding a bag of potatoes, talking about lord only knows what, while I’m inside (waiting for previously mentioned bag of potatoes to start dinner with) pacing back and forth, planning voodoo curses on Peter and Peter’s children, and Peter’s children’s children. I guard my privacy with a fierceness, and I won’t apologize for it.

Today, Peter said he wouldn’t come by tomorrow if we were home–we’ll see if he can resist. I see him creep by, driving 2 mph, speed up, then break, trying to fight the urge to pull into our driveway. Peter might go missing deep in the moutain woods if I don’t get one day sans Peter! Hiiiii – yah!

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