Cookies, clothes and... reverse karma?

Today all LB wants to eat is cookies. Banana-ish flavoured very thick and crunchy, supposedly filled with wholesome goodness cookies. I'm not complaining. Because she's not. And the only time today that she hasn't been whining or crying or hurling herself around on the floor in a little spaz is when she's got one of these lovely cookies in her hand. Rock on banana cookies.

Yes, she's teething. Molars. Ouch.

Yesterday was not a great day here. My stir-crazyness is back... and I find myself waiting all day for the instant that Tomek walks through the door and my mind can shut off from being in full LB-watch mode. Last night when he was on his way home, Tomek told me that a co-worker of his had given him a bag of clothes for LB. I've been stalling having to buy LB new clothes, but she has been in dire need of a few more pairs of pants and some long-sleeved shirts. By bag of clothes, I assumed a grocery bag. But no. It was a big, black garbage bag. And it was 3/4 full. Of pants and long-sleeved shirts, mostly.

Earlier this afternoon, someone banged hard on our door. I'm hesitant to open the door, because we do have a nutter living in this building who has bothered a guy living a few doors down from us. I'm SO glad we are not near the elevator! I looked through the peep hole (which was made for someone 6 ft tall) and could only see the top of a knit beret with brim and pom pom... some lady, and she was muttering away. Then, as I watched, bam bam bam. I thought it was another crazy, but then she lifted her head slightly and I recognized it as the old woman who lives next door. The woman who Tomek and I used to frequently hear cry out "aaaaah!!! Mickey!!!!" followed by shrieks of laughter. They got it on more than we did. Good to be retired, I guess. Anywho, it was her. So I opened the door. Her boyfriend's key had broken in the lock of their door, so they wondered if we had a pin or something they could use to try to get the key bit out. I gave them 2 safety pins and a straight pin. She told me she used to know 4 people on this floor but they'd all moved out, so I told her to knock any time. And she did. 10 minutes later, to return the pins and tell me they'd have to call a locksmith. I asked if they had a phone. She gave me a weird look, said no, that the phone was in their apartment which they were currently locked out of. I asked if they had a cell phone. No. So I offered to let them use my cell phone. She said they didn't have a number for a locksmith either, at which point I told her to come on in (which I figured she'd do with relish, being able to peek around at a new neighbour's abode) and I checked the phone book for locksmiths. First one I called was rude, said they'd charge $95 and he'd have to call me back to tell me how long they'd be. Second one was polite and cheerful and located nearby, charged $75 and would be around in 15 minutes. I was envisioning having our neighbours wait in our apartment, maybe offer them a cup of tea or something because the first guy made it sound like it would be an hour or more. But she said they'd wait in the lobby. Good news to me since the apartment is a mess and I was embarrassed to have her come in here. Turns out she needed to get in for her meds because had surgery 2 weeks ago and she was cut open from boob to belly or something close to that judging by the line her finger drew down the middle of herself.

I peeked out my door not too long ago and the locksmith was banging away on the lock of their open door, so looks like they got in and alls well.

Now if it would stop raining and Tomek would get home, everything would be just peachy.