The anger levels are quite high at the moment.
Since Friday night, the evil building site at the back of my house, which gives me a fantastic view of the intracices of good scaffolding out my back window at the moment, has had an alarm going off on it almost non-stop.
But it’s not like an ordinary alarm in that it is predictable. In fact, its unpredictablity is what makes it so extraordinarily annoying. It is not loud – it’s a short, “wheeow-wheeow-wheeow” which often cuts out mid wheeow, making it sound like someone’s just turned it off. But then it will come back, cutting out and coming back at random intervals.
This seems to be a payback for the fact that on Saturday morning they took away one of the cranes. This moment of great celebration, which meant that the amount of light coming into my bedroom would be significantly reduced, has since been tempered most significantly. The fact that it also went off for a couple of hours this morning meant that I thought someone had turned it off at long last, and that I wouldn’t suffer another dodgy night’s sleep because of it.
But no… it came back, and is currently going off almost non-stop. Last night I only managed to sleep for 6 hours because of it. I was tired enough to ignore it last night, but once I woke up an hour and half before my alarm (and after being awake for half an hour at 3am) the only thing I could hear was the alarm. There was not enough tiredness left to let my brain switch off from the noise.
My housemate has suggested that it is the one remaining crane wailing for the loss of its companion. It is as good a theory as any other I could come up with.
The daft things that happen around here are just too numerous to mention. And they always seem to come at the same time: the washing machine appears to have decided to head to the scrapheap this morning. But it’s in that delicate stage between working and truly fecked which means that it’s still working, albeit starting to develop an unfortunate habit of leaving a burning rubber smell on my clothes. Why can’t things just go kaput altogether so there can be no doubt to the landlord that a new washing machine is required?
Meanwhile, my brother’s football team have just taken another thrashing, and one of their best players has quit. I strongly predict that this will be the end of the team – and I will be recommending it to my parents next time I speak to them. It’s not worth the hassle any more. Which is a shame as it’s a lot of fun and it’s something really worthwhile doing. But between the fact that we don’t ever get any luck, the current players don’t seem to be improving, there are no sources of new players, and half the parents are truly horrible, it means the effort is just not worth the reward.
Then there’s the extremely worrying fact that I keep noticing I am forgetting things all the time. Yes. I keep forgetting things all the time. Even forgetting that I’ve just typed that I’m forgetting things all the time. Last night I thought of something really funny to write in my brother’s birthday card. It has now gone. It will never be recovered.
The anger levels are quite high at the moment.
A Grown Up Now. In Theory. 