First Thing in the Morning

In the new apartment, the head of our bed is right up against the window. It's been great so far, since a cool breeze has been coming through it every night. Heavenly. Blankets in the middle of June! On a third floor apartment with no air conditioning! I never would have thought.

As I lay in bed this morning, glorying in those magic, 60 degree puffs of air, a neighbor stepped out into the giant, communal yard space, fired up some sort of power tool, and went to town.

Groan. 7:15? Really? There's no other time for you to do your yardwork? I lay frozen, holding my breath and waiting for Oliver's sensitive ears to drive him out of bed in a fit of sleep-deprived rage. No, not tension first thing in the morning! I can't stand that! That's why I set my alarm clock to "radio". I need peace... soft sounds...

Nearby, in one of the apartments to our right, a screen window slid open. I have done just a bit of editing to the poetry that followed:

"Hey, you trucking jerk! ...

Shut that trucking thing off! ...

It's 7 in the morning and I'm trying to trucking sleep! ...

What the truck is your problem? ...

TURN that TRUCKING thing OFF! ...

Shut it off NOW or I'm gonna call the trucking cops!"


Window screen closes. Silence. Dead silence.

"Is he for real?" I whispered. I didn't dare talk out loud, for fear that our lovely neighbor would punch through the walls and strangle me.

The Pimp

At work this morning, I looked out the window onto the street below. I was pleased to see that The Pimp was back.

I see The Pimp once in awhile, walking down the street. Today he wore a pink suit, pink shirt, pink tie, pink dress shoes, pink and black zebra coat, and floppy pink and black zebra hat. He sauntered across the street, talking on his cell phone.

It made for a nice 30 seconds, watching The Pimp.