Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat


5:00am this morning:

CJ and I are sleeping. The alarm is set to go off at 6:00am and then a flurry of us running around and getting out of the house in 20 minutes ensues.


We both wake up by the sound of hail. Sweet Jesus – hail in July? That hasn’t happened in a while. We talk for a minute about how annoying it is and then realize that the hail is not hitting properly. Chang-thunk. Chang-thunk. This hail is hitting twice? We look out the window and see rocks being thrown towards our window; bouncing off the wall and then hitting the patio. Chang-thunk.

After a minute of staring at each other to decide who was going to go outside and deal with the rock thrower; I win the task by blinking. I throw some clothing on, cursing the drunk idiot friend of ours who dares wakes us up. You see, we live downtown – close to all the bars. We often get woken up when our idiot friends don’t have enough cab money or lose their cell phones. But usually we get woken up on the weekend. Not on a Tuesday morning. I walk outside just as another rock comes hurling towards the patio. This one almost hits me!

I look over the patio and see two guys holding rocks on the ground. Instead of seeing some dumb friend’s of ours; I don’t recognize these boys.

“Why are you throwing rocks?”
“I forgot my key! I’m trying to wake my roommate up!”
“He doesn’t live here!”
“No, we live above you”

The apartment above us? With the small patio that throws their cigarette butts onto our larger patio? The one where the boys who lived there walked inside when I tried to introduce myself? That one? I look at the boys again, trying to adjust my eyes – these do not look like the boys from upstairs.

“Let me in! I forgot my key! Buzz me in!”
“I don’t know you! I’m not letting you in! Call the super and Stop Throwing Rocks!”
“No, I can’t wake the super he’ll charge me $50!”

These boys are clearly drunk. They are dressed as if they had been downtown – douche bag designer shirts with the collars popped and jeans. We live in a schmancy apartment building where the rent makes me cry a little on the inside every month. I don’t want to judge but you should be able to afford the $50 if you are dumb enough to forget your keys, because you were drinking on a Monday night. My anger starts to boil now.

“Listen! Assholes! Some of us need to be awake in less than an hour and do not appreciate being awoken at 5am by two drunk little boys throwing rocks at our windows. I am not letting you in. I am not calling the super for you. But if you throw one more rock at my window you will regret it”

The boys look at me dumbfounded. I don’t think they expected to be yelled at. They walk away from my window and towards the front door.

I snuggle back into bed after briefing CJ on how the neighbours are REALLY going to hate me now.


Nope, that’s not our door being pounded on. That’s the one upstairs with the drunk boys trying to wake their roommate. The roommate I suspect is either not home or passed out cold. Again, schmancy apartment building with soundproofing throughout. They have to be hitting REALLY hard in order for us to be hearing it.

I close our bedroom door and the sound is muffled. I try to go back to sleep.

Pounding has been going on for 15 minutes. I am almost ready to call the super when the pounding stops. Finally. I don’t really want to call a noise complaint on anyone. I just want to yell at them for waking me up.

I now have to be up in 15 minutes. Today is not going to be a good day.


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