Hot and Bothered

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Sean Sandulak

After she died, I found some books in my great aunt’s attic. Among them were her diaries.

March 12th, 1968
Dear Diary,
It’s another lovely spring day, although it might rain later. It looks like they’re going to open a new restaurant on the corner where the bank used to be. It will be interesting to see what they do with the place. I’m just glad that all the construction is over. The racket was driving me crazy.

March 20th, 1968
Dear Diary,
It turns out the restaurant is serving Indian food, so I won’t be going anywhere near it. Curry makes me nauseous and gives me a headache. I feel like a bad person for saying this, but I hope their business fails. I wouldn’t be sorry to see them go.

April 13th, 1968
Dear Diary,
It was finally a nice warm day outside, but I couldn’t go outside because of the smell. Every time the wind blows from the south, that foul stench drives me back inside. I might have to move.

April 28th, 1968
Dear Diary,
Every night, it’s squealing tires and a blaring radio. Their stupid delivery driver comes right past my house a dozen times a night. There must be a law against it! I would go and give his boss a piece of my mind, but I can’t get near the place, the smell makes me so sick.

May 7th, 1968
Dear Diary,
That driver had his tires slashed. Ha, ha. It serves him right. Not that I condone that sort of behavior, but he was downright dangerous. There are kids out playing, and he’s driving around like a madman. Maybe that will teach him to be more respectful of other people.

May 20th, 1968
Dear Diary,
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, that stupid restaurant has opened up a patio. Now it smells of curry no matter which way the wind blows. And the noise! The constant chatter and shouting and laughing until all hours of the night. What I wouldn’t give for some peace and quiet!

May 29th, 1968
Dear Diary,
Well, after a week of hell now I have to listen to construction workers all day again. It seems someone smashed all the windows in that restaurant. Why can’t they take the hint and just leave? The construction workers are noisy, but at least they don’t keep me up all night.

June 10th, 1968
Dear Diary,
I didn’t get much sleep last night because the firemen were making such a racket. The restaurant is gone. It burned to the ground. I knew it was a firetrap. Well, good riddance. The only problem now is that the whole neighborhood reeks like a huge vindaloo. I can’t even work in my garden. My poor tomatoes!

July 20th, 1968
Dear Diary,
They got the insurance money, but it looks like that restaurant won’t be coming back. Hooray! I heard someone say that they thought the neighborhood was too dangerous. That’s silly. I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never had any trouble. I hope they build something nice there this time. Maybe a flower shop.