As i write this, I am being assaulted visually, aurally, and adrenally by a band of hooligans. As I write this, it is 1:07 am EDT (the time zone in which I now reside. Just in case you didn’t clue in). Now, to preface this, sleep would be slightly difficult to come by tonight regardless of human activities, as we have a very epic thunderstorm buffeting our ears and lower GI tracts that is expected to continue for some time. However. There are certain endeavours that simply aren’t necessary, that aren’t and should never be tolerated at the 1:07 hour of a Thursday morning. One of those hobbies, which I implore you to avoid, is the ignition of amateur pyrotechnics. Especially if you live two floors above me.
Please forgive any awkwardness in my prose; I’m practically delirious with glandular panic as I write this. You see, some upstanding members of society have caused firecrackers to explode intermittently three feet from my window. The window that is open due to sweltering heat, and approximately three feet from my own head. Let me break it down for you. Six feet from my face, explosions are rocking the midweek early hours. THIS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.
Alright folks, apparently in my prey-animal defensive state last night I forgot to press submit, and this didn’t get posted. Which is well and good, because I didn’t have anything particularly interesting to write about today. So here you are; my intense (but no longer topical) reactions to last night’s tomfoolery.
P.S. I totally got Ben to call in a noise complaint about this.
P.P.S. I would have done it myself, but medication-induced grogginess would have made it exceedingly awkward.
P.P.P.S. Our super lives in the building. Why did they think exploding things was a good idea? I will never understand young people these days.