If you wake me up in the middle of the night, when I have to report to work the next morning, be prepared for full-on, maniacal rage. I’m not talking about “oh look, the puppy is so cute when she’s mad” anger. I’m talking about “hide your kids, hide your wife”, this-girl-is-scary, kind of rage.
Taylor Swift sliced through my peaceful slumber this morning. Off-key, slurred, Taylor Swift, f****ing woke me up this morning. I was so disoriented that I thought it was around midnight, and assumed the noxious sounds were coming from drunken sorority girls who were stumbling down the sidewalk, below our second level apartment. I furiously banged on the window in an attempt to shut them up.
Now I had to pee, because if I’m awake, I have to pee. Another round of drunken Taylor Swift karaoke started up, and it was then that I realized it was coming from the balcony of my upstairs neighbor’s apartment. My neighbor has a name but I just refer to her as Clomp-Clomp , because she regularly gets home at 3 a.m. and doesn’t take her shoes off like a normal person. Her shoes are high heels, and the floors are hardwood.
It’s 6:15 a.m.! I have just realized what time it is whilst peeing, and now I am shouting this fact upwards,towards Clomp-Clomp’s apartment. “It’s 6:15, and I have to be at work in 3 hours! I’m going to call the cops! I’m going to call the MotherF****ing cops!”
And now, Derek is awake. I’m STILL trying to pee as his groggy eyes meet mine,that are now beyond seething. He’s seen this look in my eyes before and knows that no good can come from it.
On go his pants, and he’s out the door to calmly handle the situation. All goes quite and just as we are settling back into bed, another song starts up. As he returns to the scene of the crime, I am on his heels, and he looks frightened by the expression on my face. He pleads with me to not follow but I promise to be polite. I know he doesn’t believe me but he throws his arms up in surrender anyway.
We are now standing on the landing, directly below Clomp-Clomp’s balcony as I very politely call out, “Hey guys”. No response. Again, “Hey Guys”. They’re still singing along but it’s become muted enough that I know they can hear me. I am being ignored but I make one more attempt at civility before I super-naturally scale the wall to the balcony and take no prisoners. My third attempt at “Hey guys” is interrupted by a request for “one more song!” One more song? Seriously? I’m not your mommy, and I’m sure as hell not your D.J. I AM about to be your worst nightmare, if you don’t act like a normal 30-something and let me go back to sleep.
I honestly don’t know how I contained my rage, but I did. In response to the “one more song” request, I simply said, “I have to wake up and go to work in 2 1/2 hours”. They didn’t apologize. They just said “heard” and shut it down.
It took me another hour to fall back asleep, and then my alarm went off.
And now, a song that reflects my mood:
Eminem: 3 A.M.
I actually love Taylor Swift.
I’m not a serial killer.