Mr. Trillwing and Lucas are both tucked snugly in their beds, so I finally have some quiet time to catch up on those books I promised myself I'd skim or review before diving into the next chapter.
Of course, as soon as I settled on the couch, some astonishingly awful karaoke began to permeate our apartment complex. Sung in Chinese. At Lucas-level wailing. Makes it hard to focus on the ol' Haraway Reader, y'know?
Now it's totally understandable that the neighbors would want to pay us back for Luke's early morning mania. However, karaoke is a low blow indeed.