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Damn, I hope I get some better sleep tonight than I have the last couple of nights. As I complained to the Old Man, it's not like I have any fun to show for waking up so wrecked, since both times I stayed in and got to bed before midnight. I can blame the dryer for waking me up at 2:37 a.m. on Sunday morning. I don't usually run it that late because of the cursed buzzer I can't turn off, but when you forget to turn it on promptly, the alternatives are (a) rewashing or (b) musty-smelling clothes for a week. But I don't know what it was last night. Maybe some combination of a late stroll and getting worked up about the latest news in the teachers' strike?
My challenge for tonight will be making it through dinner without getting into it again with our neighbour. He's sure to be pissed about classes being suspended for at least two more days and if I'm not careful I'm liable to say what I really think about him blaming others for his inability to control his own child. It's especially rich to hear him complaining that if the teachers were "doing their jobs" she wouldn't be "getting into trouble" considering that she cut classes to go shoplifting during the first week. But if I don't make mention of the situation, hopefully he won't either.
When I inadvertently broached the topic last Friday (he's usually not one to jump into a discussion I'm having with the GWO) I didn't even realise he was directly affected. Last I knew, his daughter was going to a private academy on the Far South Side, but apparently she's now enrolled in a North Side public school. That might help explain some of the vehemence with which he condemns the strikers: unlike other parents I know, he hasn't spent the last decade fighting alongside his children's teachers for transparency and accountability from the City and the school board.
Meanwhile, her misbehaviour has only ratcheted up--and, with his old buddies in the building gone, Scooter now confides more in us about it than ever. The other day, I found him sniffing her water bottle to make sure it wasn't hiding alcohol. "She's a sneaky one," he explained. We've also heard details of her legal troubles which I'd just as soon not be privy to, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's opinion of her is already low enough without having to overhear her wheedle a ride to the el stop (less than ten minutes by foot) because she doesn't feel like walking. (No matter what she gets caught doing, she never seems to wind up deprived of anything.)
It's gotten so bad that we've begun assigning drama ratings for the back deck so that we can give each other an idea of the tension level we'll be walking into. Makes me wonder how many similar scenes are being enacted across the city as residents find themselves stuck supervising their shitty kids for longer than they'd planned.
My challenge for tonight will be making it through dinner without getting into it again with our neighbour. He's sure to be pissed about classes being suspended for at least two more days and if I'm not careful I'm liable to say what I really think about him blaming others for his inability to control his own child. It's especially rich to hear him complaining that if the teachers were "doing their jobs" she wouldn't be "getting into trouble" considering that she cut classes to go shoplifting during the first week. But if I don't make mention of the situation, hopefully he won't either.
When I inadvertently broached the topic last Friday (he's usually not one to jump into a discussion I'm having with the GWO) I didn't even realise he was directly affected. Last I knew, his daughter was going to a private academy on the Far South Side, but apparently she's now enrolled in a North Side public school. That might help explain some of the vehemence with which he condemns the strikers: unlike other parents I know, he hasn't spent the last decade fighting alongside his children's teachers for transparency and accountability from the City and the school board.
Meanwhile, her misbehaviour has only ratcheted up--and, with his old buddies in the building gone, Scooter now confides more in us about it than ever. The other day, I found him sniffing her water bottle to make sure it wasn't hiding alcohol. "She's a sneaky one," he explained. We've also heard details of her legal troubles which I'd just as soon not be privy to, and
monshu's opinion of her is already low enough without having to overhear her wheedle a ride to the el stop (less than ten minutes by foot) because she doesn't feel like walking. (No matter what she gets caught doing, she never seems to wind up deprived of anything.)It's gotten so bad that we've begun assigning drama ratings for the back deck so that we can give each other an idea of the tension level we'll be walking into. Makes me wonder how many similar scenes are being enacted across the city as residents find themselves stuck supervising their shitty kids for longer than they'd planned.
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