Well, here's what it has come to -- the pie tins are clanging against the side of the house, they're 10 times louder than the woodpecker ever was, the fucking bird still shows up when there's no wind to blow the tins around, and I'm downstairs sleeping on the motherfucking couch. You win, bird. I give the fuck up.
See, it has been kinda stormy lately, so the wind has really been slamming those pie tins against the siding. Personally, I think everyone in the fucking neighborhood can hear them and they're all ready to wring my scrawny neck, but the Old Lady disagrees and/or doesn't care and so this FUCKING BIRD HAS US ARGUING ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT TO REMOVE THE ALUMINUM PIE PLATES THAT ARE NAILED TO THE SIDE OF THE GODDAMN HOUSE!!!!
Apparently, tonight, she won. That's why I've decided to sleep on the couch. I'd wear earplugs like she does, but I can't because then all I can hear is my heart pounding, and then I start focusing on my heart and then I hear weird murmurs and pops and clicks, and then I start focusing on my breathing and I start fucking that up and, well, I can't wear fucking earplugs, okay?!
This goddamn flying rat is killing me. That's it -- I'm ordering the wrist-rocket tonight. And a shitload of b.b.'s. I don't care that it's illegal to kill birds protected under the Federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act! Bring on the fines, mofos. You know what? Send me to prison -- I don't give a shit. Maybe I'd get a good night's sleep in the big house. Although there are other peckers to contend with there so... yeah... I'll just pay the fine, thank you very much.
Who's the asshole who convinced me to buy a goddamn house?! Whoever it was is gonna get a b.b. in the ass.
2 comments:
Have you tried white noise? (Or as the kids spell it, wyte noize.) Not only do we want our 3-year-old son to think he's still sleeping in mommy's womb, but the white noise drowns out the neighbor's barking dogs. And now that our newborn is in our room with her own white noise, it drowns out the dogs for us.
Back in the 80s before our family was aware of such fancy noise devises and we were being kept awake by my father's snoring that echoed through the house, my mother would go sleep on the couch. But then my father and I shared a one-bedroom apartment in NYC for 2 years to cut down on my 2-3-hour commute and the only way I could sleep through his snoring was to turn on the window unit air conditioner. Which the neighbors sharing the same air shaft freaking loved when our AC was bellowing through the winter.
So, you have three new options: 1) noise machine, 2) window-unit air conditioner from the 80s, 3) raise my father from the dead so that he can zombie-snore for you.
Actually, Eddie, Mr. Z and Miss O both use white noise machines. They have ever since we lived back in Wrigleyville and all the drunken asshole Cubs fans used to walk by, screaming and pissing on our windows. They basically can't sleep without them now. Unfortunately, the machines don't go loud enough to drown out either the peckers or the pie tins. And we have central air, so that's no help. So, I guess I'm gonna have to go with your dad's zombie snore. Sorry.
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