3 am serenade

OK you can tell by the title, that this is one of those occasional rants I can go on right?

If you follow me with any regularity , you are aware that I have sleep issues from time to time. Last night was not so much an issue, but a choice of a much later bed time due to my phone call with a friend (Sarah), emails with blogger friend (Julie) and another scrumptious tome of Robert B Parker. Still reading my way through all of his Spenser series in order, in honor of Mr P's passing.

Back to the serenade. So I type my goodnight- sleep tight to Julie around 1 am and head off to bed with doggies close at my heels. Snuggle in with "Potluck" and within 30 minutes or so, I'm drowsy and off go the lights.

Piercing into my subconscious around 3 am is a wailing of such volume that all the neighborhood canines begin to canter-wall along with...Guitar strumming ensues accompanied by an off key, inebriated serenade of what I assume to be a Spanish love song. Doggies are startled awake: begin to bark and run in circles around the bed and over the bed, getting me and my three layers of bedding twisted into a knot causing me to half fall out of the bed. Visual: top half of Z holding fast to front knob of bedside stand, while "rear" of Z is irretrievably tangled in bed linens.

The serenade continues. Finally extricating my caboose, I go to the window to search out exactly whose back yard contains the crooner. Alas, now that the trees are in full canopy I could not be sure. It appeared however, that the ode to love was occurring in the same house, emanating from the same drunken fool, who occasionally threatens to either leave his significant other, harm himself or burn the house down. These incidents blessedly are rare and dealt with by his closer neighbors and the authorities.

so, now I'm awake. Putting as much distance from me and the serenade as I possibly could, knowing that calling the non emergency #'s would result in 0 response, I settled into the farthest corner and opposite side of home available, which is the computer room or den...where I proceed to ingest hearty Wasa crisps with havarti cheese and rant an email out to Julie, who is still wide awake in another time zone far, far away. I make the mistake of switching on cable and skim through several different programs, watching the beginning of one, end of another and with even more confusion 15 minutes of the middles of two others.

The sun is rising, my twinkle lights respond to their timers and switch off and I stumble back to bed at 5....ahhhhh sleep, glorious sleep.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- the Saturday morning weed whacker parade has begun.

Just shoot me now, and please give me some credit for not swearing a blue streak in this litany of ranter's prose.

If you wish to speak to me or see me in person today, fair warning: I will either not pay a wit of attention to you, or I will bite your head off. Ask darling daughter..she mistakenly skyped me about 30 minutes ago. Foolish girl!