The Dirt Field

Five reasons I am currently VERY tired:

1. We fell asleep lying upside down on the bed with the lights on shortly after midnight. Sometime between 1-2am, Bobby turned off the lights. At 3:11am, Bobby woke me up to tell me to turn around so we could actually use the pillows and covers.

2. Kobe started pacing and grunting around 5am and did not take my attempts to ignore him seriously. He switched to growling softly and endlessly until I relented, got up, and took him and Scout outside. Commence gastrointestinal distress episode THREE MILLION. DOG! Why can you not digest your kibble!

3. Sometime around 6:30am, a piece of shit car parked in the spot directly outside our window and started blasting the best of Hispanic radio. This went on until Bobby peered out window and saw the driver leave the car, silencing the music.

4. This was short-lived. The music began again, followed by the enthusiastic DJ shouting god knows what with far too much enthusiasm. Apparently the driver was back and was reclining in his seat. I lost my mind; it was 6:58am on a Saturday. I put on sweats, stormed outside, and banged on his passenger window. He got out and stared at me. I explained that it was 7am on a Saturday, he was parked outside of people’s bedroom windows, and his music was too loud. He stared at me and got right back in his car without a word.

ANGER. ANGER. FURY.

I yanked open the door and snapped, “You could try being less rude,” and then slammed the door and walked away. A moment of silence and then MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

I opened the door again – he had the decency to look startled, although not nearly afraid enough for my taste – and I snarled, “The alternative is that I call the police.”

Clearly the language barrier was not an issue; the music did not come back on. Instead, he drove away and I mentally congratulated myself for handling this situation better than the last one, in which I may or may not have called the neighborhood tow truck driver a “fucking douchebag” and possibly spit into the open door of his truck.

5. Sleep was no longer an option. We got up for the day so that I could write a post about how the local Chinese restaurant told us a dirty, dirty lie: