Wednesday, October 5, 2005

The Perks of living @ Bridgewater

I think I have a pretty high tolerance for such things, but enough is enough.

At 4:30 this morning I was jolted out of bed by a banshee-like shriek. The noise appeared to be coming from my air conditioner, and it sounded like the goddamn thing was letting out one last wail before it exploded right in the fucking apartment. Groggy but surprisingly spry, I darted out of bed over to the AC to shut it off, hoping to prevent a major catastrophe. I turned it off, but was not able to relax. The noise remained.

A look out the window proved that the unconscionably loud noise was not coming from my air conditioner, but rather from a hose, coming from truck, snaking underneath the proch of the complex next to mine. Apparently, building 1 needed some work done, so they called in Jenny Exhaust System Services to do the job.( Not sure if that is really the name of the compant but it sounds good for now.) At 4:30 in the morning. On a Wednesday.

Over the next hour, I am surprised that a homicide did not occur. First, I should try to further describe to you the nature of the noise. I've already used the words shrieking and wailing. I would also add to that list shrill, screeching, piercing, and I felt as if doesn't stop soon I was going to start ripping my fingernails out. If the drills that put together the carny stands for the October Festival sounded like dentist drills, the exhaust hose outside the my apartment sounded like a saliva sucker times roughly 15,000.

What was worse was its intermittence. Instead of a steady, loud, lasting commotion, the hose would suck for thirty seconds, then break for forty. Then it would suck for ten, break for ten. Not only that, there would sometimes be long stretches of silence, long enough that I'd start thinking, "OH YES! The good Lord has come to the rescue and the noise has stopped! It's still only 4:57 - I can still get a solid two hours of sleep!" But after four minutes of gorgeous comforting silence, that fucking hose would start up and shriek again. It was heartbreaking.

When I first looked at the window just after 4:30, all was dark. The buildings around me were unlit, and the only thing/people on the prpoerty were the damn stray black cats, before 5am (it's kinda eerie and dreamlike almost; these old cats, waddling around in the pre-dawn hours carrying heavy looking mice, coming from wherever, going to wherever. If I were high, it might freak me out more than a little bit).

When I checked out of the window again, this time at almost 5am, EVERY single apartment in my building had at least one light on. These assholes had woken the entire neighborhood. This gave me only a small amount of succor, knowing that I was not alone in my suffering. But more importantly, I thought, "You know, if I went out there and murdered these guys right now, the only witnesses would be the people they're keeping up with their racket. I could probably get away with it. I haven't murdered someone in like three years, but it's like riding a bicycle: once you go black, you never go back." Ultimately I decided against killing them, because that would require me putting on pants and actually walking outside (it was chilly out this morning).

So instead I sucke dup the fucking noise put on mp3 player, running shorts, a sports bra, and sneakers, left the apartment and went for a run, giving the drilling men a nasty look, the finger, and a very loud fart!

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