... for moving away from here. Mornings are relatively quiet and peaceful here. The traffic noise is on-going, but unless there's a siren involved or giant exhaust pipes, it's a quiet shush-shush noise, somewhat reminescent of waves coming in on a beach (at least that's what I tell myself to keep my sanity).
This past week has been lovely. Spring break and the students were GONE. No wild parties next door, no screaming tires or calls for Olga to speak Hungarian to anyone. The police all breathed a sigh of relief for the past week since we are NOT a spring break destination. But last night around 10, the Party Boys came home. Nothing big. Loud talking in the driveway as whoever was dropping them off rehashed their adventures one more time, but that was it.
Until this morning.
I went out to get my newspaper. This is what my neighborhood looks like in the morning:
My house (yes, Kate - the Christmas lights are still up). The house across the street.
The house next door. So cool to be wasted....
In other news, Misha killed her first bird today.
Tottie was showing great interest in going out on the back deck, and when I opened the door for her, realized that Misha was wrestling a baby bird. I went and grabbed her but she wouldn't let go. She did hold still long enough for me to ascertain that the bird was a goner anyway, so I let her go. It is a sad fact that cats are hunters. Sometimes it is to our advantage (rats and mice!), but they are equal opportunity predators, and birds are just so darned-much-fun. All the cats are belled, but apparently this baby didn't really understand what that lovely noise was. Sigh.