Are you fucking serious?

New neighbors moved in just below me. The floor is super thin, accentuated by their affinity for yelling at each other at full volume. The guy is usually low key and sounds drunk the girl has a shrill voice and her favorite phrase being "are you fucking serious!?"  that pierces straight through the floor every time.
They got in a lovers quarrel last night at 4am. She was ripping things off walls and throwing things because he cheated on her. Oh yes, she was fucking serious. An she wanted the fucking rug she bought and that Rebecca is such a whore.
These tiffs are then peppered with really loud make up sex and then unintelligent idle chatter between sex bouts. I guess killing time is difficult, especially when you have absolutely nothing else to talk about other than sex or fighting.

So my coffee is percolating and I'm house shopping. Quickly.

Nothing is quite as frustrating as shopping with no money. I opened up a credit union account to consolidate my high interest credit card and some other random debt.  But my price range is about 30,000 which in Akron can get you a decent house on a nice lot, as long as I don't get all esoteric about what I really want like in the big picture for life and stuff.

Now I'm looking at what I can sell for the down payment. Beef shares are selling well, despite early slumps and it looks like I'll be sold out soon. Hmm, second job?  Cull all the rest of the flick and hope for generous buyers? Or start a hot dog cart and sell at 2am by the bars. But I'd need money for the hot dog cart. Damn.

Also I just  recently came to the realization that I had been wearing the wrong bra size for years. I HATE getting fitted. Actually, I hate most everything about the bra purchasing experience. I think the last time I got fitted, I was 16 and I've just been going by those numbers ever since. But I finally got sick of it  and caved, going back in those little rooms with a very pleasant smelling woman who looked so much more put together than I do, measuring tape in hand and trial bras until we got it right. And now I feel odd in the realization that I'm a DD. when the hell did that happen? And if I think I'm smaller framed than most women so what the hell do they wear? Size H?
And shelling out $50 for an article of clothing was difficult, but damn it feels nice to fit right.  

So now it's my day off. No sleep. Broke as hell. And not sure what the day has in store. A shower and a dog walk sounds like a good start.