They said they'd talk to him, though, and so I went back, and found that, during my absence, polarbear had called, wanted to see if I wanted to go get some food. Getting out of the house was just what I needed, so I called him back, and we went out for cheeseburgers and booze. Man, that helped immensely. Thanks bro'...needed that.
One last foray into the outside world got Di and I our X-Mas present from Dad: the first two seasons of 'The Simpsons' on DVD...hence, my post about watching 8 straight hours. In the middle of that, though...more stomping and shit from upstairs, and I couldn't take it twice in one day. Bang on their door, only to have him answer and say that yes, she talked to him, and he was sorry, he didn't think anyone was home at the time in my place, and didn't realize it was bothering me. As for the sound now? Get this: they were making mashed potatoes, apparently. Now, I'm willing to believe this, mostly because there's no way you'd make up such a stupid and inane excuse for stomping around. Under the assumption that that was true, then these walls are even thinner than I once thought...and I'll be glad to move.
Guess what I'm doing today? Yeah, three guesses and the first two don't count. But first, lunchtime=sushi.