Of course on the day that I get to sleep in, I wake up at 7:20 to the sound of construction workers hammering nearby. It basically sounds like they are popping popcorn in the microwave, if the microwave were larger than a house and the kernels were made of aluminum. I can't see the building, due to the giant tree separating my house from the construction zone, but I am going to go out on a limb (haha) and say that they are nailing on the roof. I'm guessing this because yesterday I drove by and saw a conveyor belt angled up to the rooftop, transporting packages to the top. Which I guess would be normal if you were Santa and it wasn't July.
So there I am, lying in bed, ears pierced by the sound. To make matters worse, I didn't go to bed until two a.m., because I went out last night. Not that I have a hang over or anything. I totally don't. But I don't feel like eating anything, either.
I half think about opening my window and grabbing one of the squirrels that lives in the giant tree to sling-shot him over and try to knock the irritating construction guys in the head. Only, you know, they're wearing safety helmets.
My anger is assuaged only because I have a massage later this morning and know I'll be able to sleep mostly naked on a table for an hour while listening to tweeting birds and crashing oceans as a stranger twists my shoulders and cracks my spine.
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