Thursday, March 17, 2011

Unbroken sleep has been a rare commodity recently because, well, y’know, and after three consecutive days, it’s starting to wear on me. Mornings are navigable enough, but as soon as early afternoon hits, the nodding begins, and with every refresh of my Outlook inbox I’m one step closer to a sweet, sweet nap. There’s only one thing keeping me awake: the fact that I’m very partial to employment.

It’s a problem that must be solved, make no mistake, and I’m certain I can’t be the only one being jolted awake at 5:45 AM. It’s just statistically improbable, with an appreciable quantity of other homeowners and tenants within earshot. What makes this episode especially challenging is the acute lack of data on the perpetrator. I have a sound and an hour, and you can’t make much hay there. I mean, it’s not like I would follow in my old man’s example with a more hands-on solution, as it were, but I’d sure like the option. You may recall there was an issue with dog shit, and the “data” there was the bag of shit itself. It was something, though, and all I needed to put an end to subsequent deposits, if you know what I mean.

These travails of suburban living are real-world puzzles, and as annoying as they are, it’s also perversely enjoyable to mull over them, your mind pacing much as Scrooge McDuck would, with the floor worn into a deep groove. But at the same time, I’m keenly aware of how people halfway across the world are contending with tsunamis, earthquakes, and goddamn radiation leaks, right at this very moment, and suddenly an errant motorcycle seems starkly unimportant. Perhaps I should be glad there’s an apartment community still standing and able to house reprobates of the noisiest kind.