Sadists are working on the roof of the house two doors down. Our bedroom overlooks the rooftops, which is usually very Aww, how gorgeous, except when people attack nearby roofs with crowbars at 8am on a Saturday. I’d been awake until 2am (novel); Jeremy didn’t get to bed until 4am (code). We reviled our neighbors in our hearts.

The roofies have technique, I’ll give them that much. After a good session with the crowbar, they gave us just long enough to doze off again while they set up the Loud Noise-Making Device. When the delight of this apparatus had palled, they resorted to simple hammers.

“I hope they bang their thumbs,” I told my sleepy spouse, who replied:

“They’d just yell.”

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