Rumble in the (Urban) Jungle

***sigh***

First it was the furry alarm clocks. Fat Mittens stations herself at the bedroom door and begins her morning cry around 4:30 ish. Midnight has downstairs duty, circling your legs as you make coffee, meowing his heart out.

Then the birds outside. If I believed in guns, trust and believe there would have been quite a few birds with BBs in my neighborhood. What could they possibly find to tweet about at 5:23 AM?

Next it was Christy and her mom. Christy is some teen-ager who decided to defy her mother and stay over a friend’s house. Christy’s mom didn’t know where the friend lived so she knocked on every door bellowing “CHRISTEEEEE” until she found her. Once found, Christy got her behind handed to her. I was ready to administer my own whoop ass to both. Lesson here: know your kid’s friends and where they live.

Now, we have the denizens of the INTERNATIONAL Block (named because of the different nationalities there) fighting with the police. I thought I was dreaming at first. Life and dreams intermingled with a cry of “I ain’t no young boy, son!” Once I realized I wasn’t dreaming, I stumbled to the window to see a man MY AGE fighting with the cops.

***very big sigh***

To add to the melee, the required-round-the-way-chick let loose a stream of obscenities that made ME blush. The lone cop could only call for back up, screaming, “There’s a ruckus.”

Ya think?

Very, very crabby. I think I’ll spend the rest of the day knitting and eating chocolate to ease the sleepiness away.