*grumble grumble*

Okay, so I’m running on about 6 hours of the most ass sleep I have had in… well, let’s be honest here… DAYS actually. And I am chock full o’ PEEVISH.

Beware! Hyperbole and much TYPING IN CAPITALS FOR EMPHASIS ahead!

First off, full disclosure: I went to bed too late. But it’s just that I was SO BUSY! (Okay, I am lying. I was faffing.)

Regardless, it all started badly.

It all went pear-shaped in the middle of the night. I was dreaming dreams that were WAY too detailed and precise. It was like I was working in my sleep. Whose idea was that? Who, when they were inventing dreams, thought “ooh, let’s make some REALLY VIVID ones so that whoever’s dreaming them feels like they are WIDE AWAKE AND REALLY BUSY!”?? Show me the person who thought THAT would be a good idea, and I shall SMACK them.

So, here’s me, lying in bed this morning. dozing and waking and all peevish-like. Suddenly I hear “Blah blah blah! Blah-ty blah-ty blah blah! Blah blah!” Now, if you know me, and you know my neighbourhood, that can only mean one thing:

THE MAYOR!!

*(insert dramatic musical flourish here)*

Yes, the Stinking Bastard Mayor and the Stinking Bastard Mayor’s Wife. Outside talking. At whatever time it was in the morning. Now, to me, it just sounded like “Blah BLAH! Blah blah blah-ty blah!” but I imagine it went something like this:

The Mayor: Good morning, my wife!

The Mayor’s Wife: Good morning, husband!

The Mayor: Isn’t it a great morning!

The Mayor’s Wife: Why yes, husband, it IS!

The Mayor: It sure is a great morning to be a man! A great morning to be a man, indeed! A man who must go off to work, and enter the rat race, and bring home the bacon, and other manly cliches!

The Mayor’s Wife: It sure is, manly husband of mine!

The Mayor: Blah blah!

The Mayor’s Wife: Blah blah blah!

Or, something along those lines, anyway. Either way, whatever they were saying, it was bugging the crap out of me. Also, when I am very tired, I have supersensitive hearing, as though I have a killer hangover only without the frivolity and drinking beforehand. So they might have just been talking in regular voices (but that would have been a first, let’s face it.)

So then, I tried to get back to sleep. Only it’s Wednesday. And you know what that means: Festival of Garbage Trucks! Wheee!! Yes, the parade of garbage trucks came by nice and early this morning, rumbling slowly up and down our street like some smelly, slow Drag Night at the A&W. Up one side. CRASH! BANG! Then another truck.THUMPTHUMPTHUMP! Then a truck would go down the other side. SMASH! CRASH! Then another truck. BANG!

Finally I just got up with a big

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH

like Charlie Brown, shook my fist in futility at the sleep gods, and stomped downstairs to make coffee.

Extra strong. With lots of flavoured creamer.

It’s going to be one of THOSE days.

It’s probably best I stay in today.