Imagine me looking like this

© route66.com

I finally crawled out of bed and took a shower. It’s amazing how much being clean can make you feel better. I am slowly preparing to go to work while trying to decide if I should just stay home. On the one hand I don’t want to use up all my sick leave, and on the other I don’t want to be at work and have another attack of the killer fever. Then again, I didn’t really get much rest staying at home yesterday because my stupid crack head ghetto neighbors were blaring their music so loud my walls were vibrating. AND their kids (at least two of which are school age) were riding their bikes around screaming. I nearly went crazy trying to look for the number of who to call and report that these kids ARE NOT SICK! I AM! Why aren’t they in school and why aren’t their parents at work?

Not knowing what to do, I bundled up and went in search of my neighbor, whom I affectionately like to refer to as “Angry Gay Man” (not to his face, of course.) He saw me approaching through the window and opened the door shaking his head. “I called the cops at 10 to ll” he said. “What?” I yelled over the loud music. We then shared our animosity for our obstreperous neighbors for a while, parting with the thought that we hoped the cops showed up before they turned it down. After about an hour the music stopped and I slowly regained my sanity.

I have no idea if the cops ever did show up or not. But I do know that starting at around 8:00 pm I began to hear the low thump, thump pulse of the music again. I wasn’t loud, it was just there. I think I must be especially sensitive to bass sounds, so I did my best to ignore it. I went to bed at 9:00 and began to read. The thumping sound was occasionally broken by a loud whooping noise and some banging. I ignored it. At around 10:00 I turned off my light and tired to sleep, smashing my head between two pillows. Given the ferocity of the flu I have, I soon found this to be a bad idea. Next, I lay propped up on several pillows, struggling to breathe and dozing in and out of a fantasy world. In my dream I marched over to the apartment, gun in hand, and banged loudly on the door. As the door opened and the revelers turned to see me, I would shoot my gun into the air scaring the crap out of all of them and demanding they SHUT UP!

Those of you who know me will understand how shocking this is. Me! Dreaming about firing a gun?! Yes, folks, that’s how crazy I’ve become. Of course, as the dream progressed I realized that the next scene would involve all of them pulling out their guns, riddling me with bullets and leaving me slumped over and bleeding in the doorway as they continued to party.

I think I'll try wrtting a letter to landlord instead.