Monks Hours

We are back to monks hours here at the ghetto palace. Bill's alarm goes off at four AM and although I have not been able to get up at that hour the past two mornings, this morning I was on his schedule. I made coffee, clipped the cats nails and ate two bites of cold leftover meat loaf. The neighborhood is quiet. When I poured a shot of milk to heat in the smallest size jam jar for my coffee the cat leapt over to it and Lily made one loud baritone bark. I glanced over to the window above the sink, luckily it was closed. The new neighbors bedroom windows are four feet away. They have small children, and I don't want to wake them. In our town when two people rent an apartment six people move in. Families spill out onto the street playing, shouting, fighting, barking. It's the opposite of the town I grew up in but I wouldn't trade it for the world. My unemployed neighbors spend the day watching their kids, and the traffic driving by, and I spend the day watching them.