The Typewriter Mystery

So the evil wretched neighbor below us who is, for some ungodly reason, STILL HERE, has turned out to be the owner of the typewriter I've been hearing since soon after we moved in. Yes, a typewriter. That she types on. All the time. But only in short bursts.

I was convinced she didn't even know how to read, so now I'm left to guess what she could possibly be typing. I've come up with some theories:

1. She's writing the next great Brazilian novel, exposing the plight of Brazil's urban poor;
2. She runs a carrier pigeon agency (this would also explain all the pigeons on the building every morning);
3. She's applying to be the national poet laureate and writes genius haikus during moments of inspiration;
4. She's drafting letters to her local congressmen to complain about the sorry state of our neighborhood;
5. She's composing love letters for her abusive common-law husband (ones which apparently seem to draw him back for short periods of time)...

Those are all fine ideas, but I think the following scenario is the most likely:

6. Crazy wench neighbor saw a typewriter at a second-hand store and was fascinated by the sound the buttons made. Now she hacks at the keys periodically in fascination, but then quickly loses interest when she's distracted by yet another Queen song on the radio, or perhaps by talking animals on TV.


Any other possibilities that you guys can think of?