The sun finally came out yesterday allowing me to leave my window open while I slept. I say “slept” like I got a good night’s sleep. I did not. Here’s what happened:
It’s 1:40AM and I am woken up by:
“Why are you doing THISSSSSSS?! I am not the one who’s spent all day at work DRUNK. You’re a fucking cocksucker and I hope you fucking burn in HELL!”
Says a man/boy with a high pitched, frantic, loud voice as he paces outside my apartment building.
I lay there startled awake. It’s a bit disconcerting to wake up to someone yelling obscenities. I couldn’t figure out at first where the voice was coming from. I waited, trying to calm myself in the hopes of falling quickly back to sleep.
It’s 1:50AM and I hear:
“Why is everything MY fault? You lost your own keys! You’re a fucking douchebag who drinks too much!”
That’s when I got up to look out the window. In my hazy state, the guy’s voice sounded like a tenant of mine. I’ve seen him get into hysterics once or twice and I know he suffers from insomnia so it wouldn’t be that far fetched that he’s the culprit. I see a thin, emo-dressed young man holding a cell phone up to his ear speed walking from across the street coming toward my building. It is not my tenant.
I throw myself back in bed. Now I am annoyed.
It’s 2:00AM and here he comes again, this time louder (if that’s possible):
“You’re going to tell me we’re ‘not ready’ for that and then bring someone home to fuck in front of me?! You’re a whore, Brian. You’re a fucking, stupid whore!”
I heave a big sigh knowing that I’m going to be tired in the morning.
It’s 2:10AM and I swear I hear whimpering and then whispering. I can barely make out someone crying and then I hear:
“. . .I’m sorrrrrrrrrrry. . . I love you. . .”
But maybe that last part was just my tired brain making up a happier ending then those two seemed destined for.
Oh the perils of living in the city in the heart of Capitol Hill. Drunken revelry after the bars close, noisy pedestrians lingering over cigarettes outside the building and now, lovers spats at top volume.
At least it’s Friday.