Both of her daughters-in-law now have children. The Chinese father is rarely around. I am plotting what terrible things I can do to them today to get back at granny for waking me up.
1. In the spirit of the Songkran water-throwing festival, I could tip a bucket of water over the shoes outside their room - except that could keep them in all day, and I don't want that.
2. I could beat on their door, while the children are asleep. That will make them rattier still, and could backfire on me early tomorrow morning.
3. Complain to the office, except they are sick of hearing from me now.
4. Turn up my stereo, and risk annoying my other neighbours - the decent ones, who keep their noise levels down.
As I write this, granny and the child's mother are sitting huddled inside their room. I know, because I took a peek in the open door as I pretended to take the rubbish out. They look as if they know they woke up the angry farang, and are scared.
I stood at the door and glowered at granny, as she stood rocking the baby in the hall.
The other noisy child, who knows I hate them, tucked on granny's pants leg, to let her know I was staring.
Granny, who is tiny and skinny but with a voice as raspy as a chainsaw, wears Chinese peasant pants. Apart from raising children, she appears to have no life.
I have never seen her in the market. The furthest she gets is the condo carpark. What kind of existence is that?
She has no English, and no Thai. I can't communicate with the woman.
The hall, you silly old dear, echoes - you can't take the kid out there. You can do nothing sensible, but move out!
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