This post is a lie

Well, it starts with a lie anyway. I didn't really write it at the time listed - it's actually two hours later - but since it's after midnight it'll show that it was written on Monday the 19th and while it is Monday the 19th, people in the US will read it on Sunday the 18th and they'll get all confused and it'll lead to much head scratching and limb twitching so I back dated it a couple hours and...

...whatever. Enough blathering on that topic. I'm starting to make my own self twitch.

Sundays used to be an immensely stressful day in my home back when we lived in our old apartment. Longtime readers will remember us being tortured by the jackass in the apartment above us and Sunday, being a day of rest and reflection and all, was his time to truly shine with his incredibly anti-social behavior. I spent Sundays on edge wondering what sort of profane name I could come up with next to scream at him while I banged on the pipes with the only wrench we own.

As an aside, do you know that our old apartment is still unrented? Somehow the rental company seems to think it's better to leave a 500+-Euro-a-month apartment empty forever than to evict anti-social freaks.

Now my Sundays are filled with things like deciding on whether to add tomato to my standard Sunday breakfast of a hot hard boiled egg sandwich on whole wheat toast slathered with mayonnaise and lots of salt and pepper. Holy smokes, I think I felt my arteries seize up a little more by my typing that out. I spend time reading the sales circulars and watching all the TV shows I've recorded during the week. I force myself out for a walk because taking a walk on Sunday afternoons is oh-so-German and I stop for ice cream because I tell myself that eating ice cream while out for a Sunday stroll is oh-so-German.

Is there a point to all this? Not really. My only point would be that I am caught in the groove of the ordinary and am either too lazy or too content to pry myself out of it. I feel a weird sense of guilty pleasure in being idle on Sundays. Idle and free of outside stresses. It's a good thing and I likely shouldn't tamper with what's good because it's working for me.

Want proof? While I was taking a break from my Sunday walk and sitting by a fountain near my apartment building eating a lemon ice cream cone, my anti-social freak of a former neighbor previously known as Herr Loud passed by me.

He stared me down.

I smirked and kept eating my ice cream. I resisted any name calling or rude gestures.

I can't, however, say what I would have done had I had my wrench with me.