June 26, 1999.

Well, I finally came home to a very hot room and a crapload of unappealing tasks to fulfill. It was worth all the Ceilidh problems just to spent 40 or so hours in an air-conditioned environment. Although I did wear the same enormous dress for three days running. But I bet you didn't want to know that.

And it is not only buggardly hot here, but potentially dangerous. Those sweet Irish kids have put 2 + 2 together and figured out that I'm the source of the official warning they received yesterday. I found this out most unpleasantly during dinner, when an envoi came in to ask me if I was the one who'd complained that night. Seeing my loophole, I responded that I'd left the building that night. He told me that they'd got a formal complaint, then repeated the information when I didn't respond at all. I suppose he expected sympathy. Of course I'm supposed to be the sympathetic one: I'm supposed to understand their JD behavior while they're freed from being sympathetic to anyone but themselves.

I don't think he was convinced by my story, because the atmosphere remained ugly. I thought it was tense on Thursday night; this was a whole new level of belligerence. He was trying to intimidate me - and with a great deal of success I might add.

So, just to sum up: I've being more-or-less driven out of my legal abode by fellow tenants who do not care that I need to work & study & sleep while they play soccer in the hall outside my door and run squealing for hours. And now I'm being indirectly threatened by said thugs.

Tell me again why we don't eat their babies?

Other than that, it's been a nice day. Pixie & Q are very accommodating of my studying in the main room, which was a nice air-conditioned change from this hell-hole. The only problem is that they're too interesting & friendly, and I need to be antisocial...even though I don't really want to be. I had to come back where there was nothing to fool around with...well, at least not in as satisfying a way as I fool around in Froghopper Nook.

And while I'm on the subject, Q has been complaining in his journal that nobody seems to be reading it these days, so you might want to go over with, oh I don't know, a coffee cake or a bottle of gin or something, and make him feel at home.

End transmission, people of earth.