And curse you, unknown Armenians. And curse you, James and Delores Weaver, even though you're dead. None of you bothered to have a "trap" installed on the sewer line when you owned the house.
So, at 1:30 am I'm in the car looking for an open grocery store (Ralphs in Arcadia) and then the next day charging $1,275 on the credit card to have a trap installed and all the roots bored out of our pipes so that we can use our bathroom again.
And we must have the most dumbass neighbors on the planet. The other night someone was having a party, the loudest we had ever heard, by far. We called the sheriff, they came out, but the music went right back up when they left. We waited an hour and called again. They said they'd come back out, but they didn't, so then we called a third time and was told that there was a bad car accident and a suicide, so they were tied up. Couldn't the paramedics handle the car crash and the coroner the suicide? I mean, c'mon. So Lori's mom went door to door to houses in the neighborhood asking them if the music bothered them. And apparently it didn't bother any of them. What kind of [bleepedybleep bleep bleeps] do we have in this neighborhood? My guess is that they want to reserve the right to later have excessively loud parties.
The good news was that Rachel slept through it all, even when we were out on our front porch.
I miss renting.