Rude Awakening

Question: Why am I writing a blog at barely after 6:00 on a Saturday morning?

Answer: Because my neighbor is an enormous fucktard.

It’s probably going to be a blog-intensive weekend, because I have way more (early morning) hours than I’d expected, and I’m really, really cranky. "Cranky writer" equals many blogs about all the things that are currently annoying me, which right now includes pretty much everything.

The scene: My very warm, very comfy bed, snuggled under my Korean Mink Blanket next to my husband, with my pillows arranged just right, and – for the moment – not coughing up a lung.

The time (and this is the important part): 4:14 AM. On a Saturday.

A grating, grinding sound is heard. It continues. And continues. And continues. Opening one sleep-encrusted eye, I am confronted with flashing red lights. Which continue. And continue. Grate, grind, flash. Grate, grind, flash. Flash, flash, flash. Graaaaaaaate.

I should mention that during the evening and overnight hours, we received some light snow. The key word in the preceding sentence is “light.” When I went to bed, we had barely a coating, definitely far less than an inch.

I recognized the “grate, grind, flash” as evidence that Across The Street Neighbor (West) had put the handy-dandy snow plow attachment on the front of his truck, and was clearing his driveway. At 4:14 AM. On a fucking Saturday.

I started thinking that there better be about seven feet of snow out there, or somebody’s going to die.

If he woke (at 4:14 AM, on a Saturday) and found himself to be snowbound, and in dire need of travel (such as a ruptured appendix or being out of dog food), I’d actually prefer he use a snow blower. The motor of a snow blower quickly fades into background white noise, similar to a lawn mower, and it does not make gratey-grindy noises or require flashing red lights.

After about ten minutes, the sound and light show ceased, and I began the business of trying to go back to sleep. Which totally wasn’t going to happen. Wide awake. Wide, wide awake, and already thinking, “This guy is so On Report. He is blog-fodder, and I shall show no mercy.”

I’d mentioned to Tom, shortly before I gave up on the getting-back-to-sleep thing, that I was passing the time thinking up dastardly things to do to Across The Street Neighbor (West)’s house, truck, family, and descendants. As I left my warm bed-cocoon, I muttered, “Sure gonna be a shame about his house. Watch the news.”

When I got to the kitchen and the sliding glass doors in order to let BroZarkWin out for their pre-breakfast potty break, I took a good look at the deck. Which was blanketed in… less than an inch of snow.

Let me repeat that. “Less than an inch of snow.”

Yet this somehow required my imbecile of a neighbor to get out his big ol’ truck, with snow plow and flashing red lights, at 4:14 AM, on a Saturday, and rescue his family from the snowbound horror of his 30-foot-long driveway. He heroically reduced that snow cover, which reached almost halfway to his ankles, to… well… snow that reached slightly less than almost halfway to his ankles.

Well, thank goodness the children didn’t starve.

I’m sure he felt all manly and chest-poundy, driving his big truck up and down his treacherous driveway, lights flashing wildly, announcing his victory over the elements to one and all. Yes, fire up the truck! You are obviously a believer in the “swat a fly with a hand grenade” doctrine, and practice it faithfully. At 4:14 AM. On a Saturday.

You have a truck with a snow plow and flashy lights. You wouldn’t use a wimpy, girly-girl snow blower. Or a shovel, which would have required no more time and would not have pissed me off at all. Or a fucking broom, because there is less than an inch of snow out there you total asshat!

Wow. I sure hope I can make it out of my driveway today so I can go to the liquor grocery store.

My dogs, on the other paw, were somewhat pleased with the outcome, because shortly after 5:00 AM (on a Saturday), I got up and gave them breakfast. Tom was somewhat pleased, also, because he did fall back to sleep after the “grate-grind-flash” performance, and since I got up and fed the dogs, he didn’t have to. He did, however, have to get up around 5:40 because he had to go to work today, so I don’t begrudge him the extra sleep.

I can see the truck and its accompanying plow out my front window right now. I wish I knew more about mechanical-type things, because I have a strong urge for sabotage at the moment. I also wish I knew his work schedule, so that I could calculate the precise moment he is most looking forward to sleeping in, and take Brody over there to bark at his dogs for an hour or so.

I might need to take my broom so that I can navigate his hazardous Donner Pass of a driveway, unless his kids had a snowball fight, because if they hurled more than two snowballs each, they would have depleted the snow-supply in their entire yard, leaving the driveway clear for my assault.

So, am I cranky today? Well, as they say here in Minnesota, “You betcha!”