Here I am at 2:58 on a Thursday morning. The night started out blissfully enough. Hit the pillow at about 10:00. Fell asleep soon thereafter. Then it started. Pops was up to his shenanigans, playing that empty water cooler he calls a drum and howling away with stray drunks on 1st ave. I was asleep when it happened but had dreams of ripping him a new one from my balcony. Then I was awake. He stopped for a bit, but when he started up again, it was the last straw. I ran down to the street and told him to knock it off in pretty uncertain terms, and reasonably enough, he did just that. But then that's when the adrenyline kicked in. Now I'm typing a message to the world rather than sleeping, and in just a few hours I'll need to get ready for work.
Damn I hate insommnia, and damn I hate Pops!
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