She Was the First Song I Ever Sang
Tuesdays are my Mondays. Being a hairdresser means Saturday is a mandatory work day,therefore my weekend is Sunday and Monday. Now that I have that explanation presented I will now bitch that it is Tuesday. Even though I go in at 1:00 on Tuesdays, I hate the beginning of a work week.
I am a little extra cranky this morning from lack of sleep. The Sandman has been running around on me and has been coming in to my bed late every night. Being the overly forgiving kind, I always embrace him in to my bed whenever he stumbles in sighing in gratitude that he showed up at all.
Last night was one of those nights. I finally managed to drift off to sleep around 1AM when a banging at my door jolted me upright in a panic. As I stumbled down the stairs I heard a familiar sound from the other side of my steel door. It was the sound of a policeman's two-way radio. I opened the door to find two policeman and my neighbor standing there. I let them in and they began grilling me if I was alone,was I OK and if I had any kind of disturbance? They responded to my neighbors call that they heard a woman screaming.
"Mike, are you sure it's not the Boinkers?" I asked my neighbor. The Boinkers are the pet name several of us have given to the new couple that moved in a few doors down. They tend to have incredibly loud sex with their windows wide open. Living in a townhouse with a courtyard, let's just say their throes of passion their ecstasy becomes even more amplified while acoustically bouncing off the surrounding units.
It was funny the first night,mildly amusing the second night,by the third night in a row I was thinking,"are you fucking kidding me? What are they goats?" and proceeded to bitch to my lesbian couple neighbors about why I get little sleep.The only good thing about these prolific love makers was the fact that it never lasted past eight minutes or was initiated past one AM. After another night of porn sounds floating over to my open window and turning up the volume of an episode of Will and Grace, I questioned quantity over quality. I am yet to meet these neighbors face-to-face but I know they have a quickie every night. The thing is with the Boinkers, I am not sure if they don't realize how everyone can hear them or if they get off on everyone hearing them. My neighbors and I questioned each other if one of us should leave an anonymous note explaining the situation. Fact is, if they ever wanted to be invited to join our communal courtyard barbecues, they better shut their windows. How could we possibly be friends with someone when we are asking do you want cheese on that burger?~ and wow, you actually lasted longer than five minutes last night!*high five*
The problem was solved when we got record breaking temperatures in June and all of us where forced to put on our central air. With double paned windows and running compressors you don't hear much of anything.I had a quieter wait for the elusive Sandman.
We had wicked thunderstorms yesterday. The soaring temperatures plummeted down and last night we were left with temperatures that were in the low 70s and noticeably less humid. We could finally have our windows open again at night.
"Mike, are you sure it wasn't the Boinkers?" I asked.
"No,it was just a woman with short screams," he replied. My blood ran cold that the first person he thought of was me. I appreciate my neighbors look out for me. Yet, it is sickening to think I am one of those neighbors that everyone feels they have to look out for.
As the officer started writing out a report I went outside with Mike and the second policeman.Other neighbors were standing outside. This would be the third time officers were at my house in a week's time.I could just imagine what they were thinking about me and my choice of ex boyfriends.
I then heard it. It was a short burst of what sounded like a cry for help. I knew immediately what the sound was.
"It's a Canadian goose. It's probably crying because it's mate is injured or killed."
The officer was young. He looked like one of those guys who grew up in a middle class suburb that has a soccer league, a fenced in yard and a dog named Haley or Cody. (which always makes me feel sorry for human Codys. Whenever I say, "hey Cody,what's up?" I feel I should be tossing them a squeaky toy and exclaiming what a good boy they are.) This young suburban cop had probably no clue that Canadian geese mate for life. When their mate is injured or killed they will cry out like that for hours,if not for days. It is heart breaking to see and hear. The few times I have encountered this horror I am always amazed at the human-ess of their cry. They cry like humans but their mating for life doesn't always get replicated by humans in return.
The officer got on his two-way and reported that the woman in distress was coming from behind my development and to send back-up.
After 20 minutes the first officer came back and told me I was right. Apparently a fox or dog got a female while she was nesting. They found her torn up body across the road. I heard one of the Boinker's say,"you mean it's just a stupid goose? Can't someone go shoot it"
I knew then and there, there will never be an invite from me to join a barbecue. It was at the top of my throat to scream that at least geese stand by their mate,even in death. That's more than most humans seem capable of doing anymore. I never hated a neighbor more. I heard Mike mutter under his breath, " maybe someone should shoot them next time we have to hear them scream all night." I hugged him for that.
The show was over and everyone started wandering back in to their homes. I crawled back in to bed and curled up with my cat Kenni. She seems to have risen up in the pecking order since Sweet Pea's passing. She is incredibly sensitive and will make merring noises at me if I am distressed. I held her close while I heard the mournful cry of the goose. I knew sleep wouldn't come until his song was over.
Artist: The Who
Album: Who's Next
Title: The Song Is Over
The song is over
It's all behind me
I should have known it
She tried to find me
Our love is over
They're all ahead now
I've got to learn it
I've got to sing out
[chorus:]
I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free
I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free
When I walked in through the door
Thought it was me I was looking for
She was the first song I ever sang
But it stopped as soon as it began
Our love is over
It's all behind me
They're all ahead now
Can't hope to find me
[chorus]
This song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years
The song is over
The song is over
Searchin' for a note, pure and easy
Playing so free, like a breath rippling by
I am a little extra cranky this morning from lack of sleep. The Sandman has been running around on me and has been coming in to my bed late every night. Being the overly forgiving kind, I always embrace him in to my bed whenever he stumbles in sighing in gratitude that he showed up at all.
Last night was one of those nights. I finally managed to drift off to sleep around 1AM when a banging at my door jolted me upright in a panic. As I stumbled down the stairs I heard a familiar sound from the other side of my steel door. It was the sound of a policeman's two-way radio. I opened the door to find two policeman and my neighbor standing there. I let them in and they began grilling me if I was alone,was I OK and if I had any kind of disturbance? They responded to my neighbors call that they heard a woman screaming.
"Mike, are you sure it's not the Boinkers?" I asked my neighbor. The Boinkers are the pet name several of us have given to the new couple that moved in a few doors down. They tend to have incredibly loud sex with their windows wide open. Living in a townhouse with a courtyard, let's just say their throes of passion their ecstasy becomes even more amplified while acoustically bouncing off the surrounding units.
It was funny the first night,mildly amusing the second night,by the third night in a row I was thinking,"are you fucking kidding me? What are they goats?" and proceeded to bitch to my lesbian couple neighbors about why I get little sleep.The only good thing about these prolific love makers was the fact that it never lasted past eight minutes or was initiated past one AM. After another night of porn sounds floating over to my open window and turning up the volume of an episode of Will and Grace, I questioned quantity over quality. I am yet to meet these neighbors face-to-face but I know they have a quickie every night. The thing is with the Boinkers, I am not sure if they don't realize how everyone can hear them or if they get off on everyone hearing them. My neighbors and I questioned each other if one of us should leave an anonymous note explaining the situation. Fact is, if they ever wanted to be invited to join our communal courtyard barbecues, they better shut their windows. How could we possibly be friends with someone when we are asking do you want cheese on that burger?~ and wow, you actually lasted longer than five minutes last night!*high five*
The problem was solved when we got record breaking temperatures in June and all of us where forced to put on our central air. With double paned windows and running compressors you don't hear much of anything.I had a quieter wait for the elusive Sandman.
We had wicked thunderstorms yesterday. The soaring temperatures plummeted down and last night we were left with temperatures that were in the low 70s and noticeably less humid. We could finally have our windows open again at night.
"Mike, are you sure it wasn't the Boinkers?" I asked.
"No,it was just a woman with short screams," he replied. My blood ran cold that the first person he thought of was me. I appreciate my neighbors look out for me. Yet, it is sickening to think I am one of those neighbors that everyone feels they have to look out for.
As the officer started writing out a report I went outside with Mike and the second policeman.Other neighbors were standing outside. This would be the third time officers were at my house in a week's time.I could just imagine what they were thinking about me and my choice of ex boyfriends.
I then heard it. It was a short burst of what sounded like a cry for help. I knew immediately what the sound was.
"It's a Canadian goose. It's probably crying because it's mate is injured or killed."
The officer was young. He looked like one of those guys who grew up in a middle class suburb that has a soccer league, a fenced in yard and a dog named Haley or Cody. (which always makes me feel sorry for human Codys. Whenever I say, "hey Cody,what's up?" I feel I should be tossing them a squeaky toy and exclaiming what a good boy they are.) This young suburban cop had probably no clue that Canadian geese mate for life. When their mate is injured or killed they will cry out like that for hours,if not for days. It is heart breaking to see and hear. The few times I have encountered this horror I am always amazed at the human-ess of their cry. They cry like humans but their mating for life doesn't always get replicated by humans in return.
The officer got on his two-way and reported that the woman in distress was coming from behind my development and to send back-up.
After 20 minutes the first officer came back and told me I was right. Apparently a fox or dog got a female while she was nesting. They found her torn up body across the road. I heard one of the Boinker's say,"you mean it's just a stupid goose? Can't someone go shoot it"
I knew then and there, there will never be an invite from me to join a barbecue. It was at the top of my throat to scream that at least geese stand by their mate,even in death. That's more than most humans seem capable of doing anymore. I never hated a neighbor more. I heard Mike mutter under his breath, " maybe someone should shoot them next time we have to hear them scream all night." I hugged him for that.
The show was over and everyone started wandering back in to their homes. I crawled back in to bed and curled up with my cat Kenni. She seems to have risen up in the pecking order since Sweet Pea's passing. She is incredibly sensitive and will make merring noises at me if I am distressed. I held her close while I heard the mournful cry of the goose. I knew sleep wouldn't come until his song was over.
Artist: The Who
Album: Who's Next
Title: The Song Is Over
The song is over
It's all behind me
I should have known it
She tried to find me
Our love is over
They're all ahead now
I've got to learn it
I've got to sing out
[chorus:]
I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free
I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free
When I walked in through the door
Thought it was me I was looking for
She was the first song I ever sang
But it stopped as soon as it began
Our love is over
It's all behind me
They're all ahead now
Can't hope to find me
[chorus]
This song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years
The song is over
The song is over
Searchin' for a note, pure and easy
Playing so free, like a breath rippling by
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