New Experiences, bad.

For the first time in my life, I live below someone. Someone who apparently has some sort of incredibly loud menagerie, with things like stampeding antelopes and perhaps a handful of elephants. They are new to my building, and I miss the old, silent, above-me residents.
I think they now have chimpanzees jumping on some sort of trampoline. I can't be sure, but it's mighty loud.
One of the words that greatly pleases me is "misspellings." Blogger assures me that I have none.

For some reason, Bill has held off on posting on my eminent greatness as a girlfriend. I baked cinnamon bread yesterday, and, if I do say so myself, it tastes and looks just like real cinnamon bread. And, at the estimated cost of about $.50 a loaf, definitely trumps the cost of purchasing speciality bread at the grocery store. However, it is messy, and cleaning is Bill's job. Perhaps this is why he is not singing my praises to the moon or whatever.

Yes, my new hobby on my days off is "baking." It's not my preferred day off activity, as it's not as fun as drinking, shopping, etc, but it is more productive. And sadly, I have yet to acquire any friends in Los Angeles of the girl-persuasion, whom, let's be honest, are vastly preferable to friends of the heterogametic sex. Possibly this is the first time I have used the word heterogametic. I will continue to do so.