To That One Neighbor.

Nobody is happier than you that you’ve found your Amy Winehouse CD. I mean that. Because, see, nobody is happy but you that you found your Amy Winehouse CD.

Last summer, when I heard “Rehab” on eleven blasting from — (what is that, your porch? your super-speakered ipod? where do you get such volume?) — from your lair for hours straight, day after day, I thought you were either close, personal friends with Miss Winehouse, or trying to send a very direct message to your wife.

But today, when you were blasting it again after a several month hiatus — sometimes one extra track before you loop back to “Rehab” yet again so I know you have the entire album at your fingertips, but you choose to torture your community by the ear-splitting, mind-slamming repetition of a single (outdated) song — I had to wonder if this was your way of celebrating some milestone in your life, or if you were celebrating Amy Winehouse’s new Grammy collection.

Chances are the only thing you were celebrating was the fact that you found your Amy Winehouse CD, which your wife must’ve hidden from you sometime back in September.

Once you play the song five times in a row, by the way? I hear it in my head another nine. I am furious with you right now. Furious! Read more

footprints

and lack of sleep

I’m exhausted.

Last night was the worst. I think in the beginning of the evening I was talking in my sleep, and I believe Eric and I had a conversation about him escaping from El Salvador because he was considered evil. Shortly thereafter a car alarm went off. And not those nice, polite car alarms where the guy goes running out in the rain apologizing and turning off the little chirps. It was one of those alarms that gives you the total bedlum. WEEE-OOOH! WEEE-OOOH! WEEE-OOOOH! WAAH! WAAH! WAAH! WAAH! PrrrrIIIII! PrrrrrIIIII! PrrrrIIII! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE!

And then it would shut off. I’d put my head back on the pillow.

WEEE-OOOH! WEEE-OOOH! WEEE-OOOOH! WAAH! WAAH! WAAH! WAAH! PrrrrIIIII! PrrrrrIIIII! PrrrrIIII! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! WooooOOOOOOOIIEEEE! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! Piiiiooooooouuuuu! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE!

Eric would get up to shut the window, but the alarm would stop. He’d stare at the window for a second, decide it was all over, and get back into bed.

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