Baby steps.

Today I made progress with the screaming children down the hall. One in particular is a little banshee able to produce a squeal not unlike a pig going to slaughter - and she's able to maintain this at a volume and duration that's ungodly.

So of course I go to take the pups out on their night walk, and she pops her head out the door and starts her siren song. Her elder sister who seems a lot more reasonable, comes over and pets the dogs. Thank Sweet Jebus Kielbasa didn't start barking. But then Banshee comes out, and starts actually saying words. When she's not screeching her sonic waves, she's actually a pleasant little girl. She wanted to know why the dogs went out so late - I said because they need to go before bed. This is a hint that since she can't be more then 10, and it's now 10:30 she might want to try some bed herself. I don't think she got it. Then, she wanted to know where the dogs sleep. I said in their bed. I think she wants to see my apartment. I think all the kids on my floor want to see my apartment. This is why they all hang out around my door. It's kind of sad when you think about it, because my apartment is refurbished and theirs' is not. They just want some place to go that's better then what they've got. Don't we all.

In the elevator on the way up, this really malnourished woman was commenting on how much Kielbasa eats. (She thought, like many people, that he was pregnant and Caliope's Mom). I tried to play it off that he's "big-boned," but she didn't buy it. "No..I'll tell you boy, that dog can EAT." I felt embarrassed for Kielbasa. It's possible his waist is bigger then hers. Maybe I do need to cut down on the meaty bones.