Moved the bed this weekend, it is no longer by the window, and thankfully, I cannot hear the neighbor’s dog barking. There must be something in the dog owners DNA that makes it possible for them “to not hear their own dog barking” because if it were not there, someone would have shut this mutt up a long time ago.
He howls at the coyotes, he barks for hours on end, he even pleads to the moon when it is full. His name is Boomer (if anyone should care?) he is an outside dog, a flea bitten, tick infested curr who at times has made my life miserable, my canine neighbor who lives a few scant yards across the road from us.
But tonight it has been unusually quiet.
So I got up early, because you see, now I cannot sleep, the room is too quiet. In the past, to thwart the dog, I would often turn on the rotating fan, and even though I was not overheated or hot, I would use the fan to drown out the sound of the dog and pull the covers up tight around my head and neck.
Desperate times call for desperate measures they say.
I lay there in the stillness of the night, and I watch the red numbers on the clock, slowly turn over, one at a time. The quiet of the morning envelops me and I am at peace with my world, which is a strange feeling, because I am NEVER at peace with my world.
Not running the fan now, the room is eerily quiet, so believe it or not, the silence of the room is hampering my sleep. Fighting what appears to be a losing battle, I get up and I come in here, to my favorite chair, a cup of fresh brewed coffee and soft porn on the movie channel (you know the kind, where everyone is naked, but nobody is showing their junk, that is soft porn). Finding no solace in that, I search around and finally land on an old Chevy Chase movie on one-eighty-five.
What else is there for a guy to do at three in the morning?
Sadly, I am far too old for my own paper route.
Sitting here, I fire up the laptop and I search the net for something to amuse, to peruse, a smattering of America to fire my senses. What I find unfortunately this day, is blog after blog of depressing type stuff, I cannot for the life of me figure it out. Must be something in the water, page after page of people who are desperately seeking ways to be happy with their sorry feckless lives.
It is always a good idea to vent, I believe in that. What I don’t believe in is sharing what it is that I am feeling (of a negative nature) with people I do not know. I don’t understand it when people write about how miserable they are, sharing every rancid detail with complete strangers in the middle of the night.
Maybe it would be better for all concerned, if they just bought a dog.