Clink clank STAB

Ok so we’ve established my unhappy existence as a very light sleeper/sometime insomniac. This we know. I’m fully aware of the trade-off I’ve made between living in the deliciously dark, quiet country and living in the big city with all its awesomeness, in addition to noise and bright lights. The garbage trucks, the street lamps, the late night carousers; I’ve bitched and moaned about them until the cows came home. Well, until they were supposed to come home; they’re probably smoking outside a bar disturbing the peace of some other poor bastard on the LES.

For some reason, since the new year began, the insomnia has pretty mcuh seized complete control of my nights. I lay in bed, deliriously tired. At some point in the middle of the night I fall asleep. I have vivid, mentally exhausting dreams. I wake up to some noise or another early in the morning, usually around 7. Except on Thursdays. On Thursdays, of late, I’ve been waking up to the clinkity clank of glass bottles being harvested at 5-5:30 am. Or so the sound would lead me to believe. Imagine reaching into a refrigerator to grab a few brewskis. The glass kind that have nice long necks. You’re grabbing a few for friends, so you curl your fingers around the necks of two or three. The glass bottles clink together in a very distinct way. Now imagine doing that over and over for about twenty minutes. This is my Thursday morning life. This morning, I was quite close to tears. I was closer still to getting dressed, going outside, and stabbing whoever is doing the bottle harvesting, with a butter knife. Next week, I will get dressed, go downstairs, and tell them I will call the police if I ever hear clinking glass bottles at 5:30 am ever again. EVER AGAIN. Unless it’s my super, in which case, no prob, carry on Angelo!