No, no the power of SINGULA has not waned, the above is just how the mina sings the chorus of that Britney Spears song. Of course she is actually singing along to the cover version by Bowling for Soup and that saves me from humiliation somehow.

It's not my loneliness that's killing me, I still am impenetrable in the power to not feel left out in the face of happy coupling, but it is in fact my ONLINESS that is killing me. Being the only one to take care of things. I am the only one who can do laundry, take out the garbage, pick the kids up from school, cook dinner, warm up the car and brush and/or scrape it.

So clearly I need more amenities in my life.

I mean, being that I have to take care of everything, I think that I shouldn't have to be pissed about the fact that the stairs and walk aren't shoveled. Or that the second floor hallway lightbulb has been burnt out for a month. I would have to complain to my landlord, who actually tries to be a nice guy in every way as long as it doesn't cost him too much money. My downstairs neighbor- who used to be a great pal of mine and is never, ever home now that his ex has full custody of the kids, is the caretaker at my duplex. (I have the attic apartment- but it doesn't scream tri-plex) I don't want to be another voice bitching about Patt- he knows, he's been reminded, he's been gently prodded- all that's left is drastic action and my landlord has a soft heart.

Having benefited from that soft heart I will let these amentity issues go, since they are not the end of the world.

But speaking of complaining...

My second floor neighbors are really nice. A mom in her late 40's or 50's with a son in his 20's that lives with her. Apparently they think we walk on bubbles, because unlike our former downstairs neighbors who thought the girls strapped cinder blocks to their feet and practiced marching in our apartment, these nice neighbors never complain. The woman is really cool, and I am grateful for quiet, nice neighbors who you only think of (for the most part) when you cheerfully greet them coming in or out.

They smoke though. And in the winter time with all windows closed, their smells waft through my floor.

I can live with smelling what my neighbors are cooking, and even with smelling the wake up cigarettes- although I think it's gross and wish I couldn't smell their cigarette smoke. It's only until windows are opened again after all.

But that ain't all that cooks downstairs.

It's the schwa smoke that bugs me.

I appreciate that at least the bud scent is thick and pleasant. It's obviously nice marijuana and I am very happy for them. I don't find the smell unpleasant really, but y'know, I have two small kids and I don't smoke and I am all about "what you do in the privacy of your home is your business" except that it's really really blatant and there is part of me that staunchly doesn't appreciate it.

What if I was a person who found quitting smoking really hard, and every day wished more than anything that I could smoke up that fatty? I mean, smelling their pot smoke just isn't cool. And I'll admit that I am irritated because I made rules that made sure that my kids didn't have to be exposed to pot smoke, and they still are.

I am not worried that my kids are getting high off the smoke. I am sure the natural wood floor filter is keeping us from getting high second-hand but if you saw the newest Oliver Beene, you might think again.

Part of me doesn't mind that they can identify that smell as pot smoke either. It will be useful knowledge later- I mean, no demystifying needed, right?

But I notice, and I think enough to go on as I have. I mean, I've made the choice, as an adult, not to smoke pot anymore and I don't think people who do smoke it are bad, or losers, or anything- One of the coolest, most productive, creative minds I've ever known smoked daily. People are free to make their own choices and set their own limits.

Except I would also like to choose not to smell pot every day when I come home from work. Or when I have a day off. I would like to choose to be able to avoid the pot smoke.

Is there an ettiquette for this kind of thing? Should I leave a can of Oust at their doorstep and a note that reads "for when you light up"?

I don't want to be the man.

If only someone who wasn't nice could complain for me. Or if only someone who smoked was over and could go and knock and say-

"Dude! Excellent! Can you share some smoke? It smells awesome!"

Cause then they'd know I can smell it upstairs.

My onliness is killing me....