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next door is having an open for inspection. i’m just sitting on my bed, doodling on the computer and watching this endless stream of people climbing up the stairs next door to go and stickybeak through the house. mum is vacuuming, which is giving me a bit of a headache, but when she stops all i can hear are the footsteps and conversations next door. i hate thin walls.

oh! to live in a stand-alone house!

the general demeanour is one of studied yuppie. brown suede jackets and close cropped hair for the men, sleek bobs and tailored leather jackets for the women. suspicious glances at everyone else and a really-couldn’t-care-less-but-if-you-gazump-me-i’ll-kill-you expressions. there is a constant cavalcade of cars outside and people parking on the wrong side of the road, and peering disdainfully into our front yard as they go up the stairs.

i hate this. i’m basically anti-social, i know, but i just hate groups of people hanging around. it makes me feel threatened, which is stupid on many levels, but in this context it is acute. the thing i hate even more is that eventually one of these yuppies will buy the place and then we’ll be neighbours.

oh! to live in the country in a stand-alone house surrounded by space and lack of people. which is not to say i would live a hermit-like existence. certain people would know the secret access codes and the way to find my little house perched on a mountainside, through the winding roads and rainforesty tracks and only the best ones would come and visit and we’d have slumber parties and watch movies and lie on the porch and look at the stars.