When Will It Stop?

Today I learned the value of going to work. Somewhat like fasting to appreciate food, or travelling to appreciate home, I am now appreciating the benefits of a workplace. Sure, I have to get up early and I have to put up with flaky air-conditioning and co-workers, but at least my brain isn't drilled into.

Let me explain.

Thinking that I'd be able to sleep in today, I stayed up till about 1am last night, playing on the good old Xbox. My partner in crime gets up at around 6am, so that means I temporarily wake up at the same time.

This is fine by me. I can handle it. What I can't handle is heavy knocking on the door about two hours later.

I'm not sure what happened. Someone banged on the door and woke me up, but before I got out of bed, they'd already closed the front gate. Across the road, I could see the perpetrator knocking on someone else's door. Unlike me, they answered, so I stuck my ear against the window and tried to listen in. From what I could tell, the door knocker was a gardening disposal person and was offering some kind of tree trunk destruction. I thought about it. Should I open the door, rush across the road and say, count me in?

No. I don't have any tree trunks.

I checked all around the house. Under the sink, in the fridge, under the bed. Nope. No tree trunks. No large pieces of wood. I knocked on my skull, just to see if that was made of wood. Maybe I could get them to shove my head into their Truck Of Mass Destruction. I mean, they're already figuratively destroying it. Why not go the whole hog and murder me in a bloody bath of gardening?

And it's still going. They've been mulching or shredding or whatever it is they do for the last three hours, non-stop. Add the usual Tuesday morning garbage pickup into the mix and my head is seriously sore.

Everything's quiet now. I think it just stopped. So this is what the life of a writer in the inner city is like.

Now, back to procrastinating.