I’m operating on about two hours of sleep this morning. Thank goodness for strong coffee. *yawn*
Dawn arranged with me to watch Vedder yesterday so she could stay the night with her man. It was a nice surprise to come home and have him greet me at the door, since she normally closes him up in her bedroom. I always feel bad doing this, so I generally leave him roaming free but try to ensure there is nothing on the tables he can chew, the garbage bin is moved to the back porch and my bedroom door is closed. Dawn and I didn’t coordinate well before she left yesterday morning, though, so I left my bedroom door ajar. You can imagine the mess that greeted me when I went upstairs. Vedder got into my trash, pulled out a few Luna Bar wrappers, an empty tampon box and various other papers and ripped them to shreds all over my floor. He also must have eaten something from my trash, old chewing gum or part of the Luna Bar wrapper that still had a smidgen of chocolate on it (I otherwise don’t throw away food in my bedroom trash) because he kept me up all damn night needing to go outside.
The little sleep I was able to catch in between Vedder’s need to relieve himself was rudely interrupted around 1:15am by a man outside yelling. That isn’t terribly new to me given the neighborhood in which I live, so I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. This guy apparently had a lot to say, though, because he just kept going and going. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, it sounded like nothing but drunken slurring to me. I crawled to my bedroom window to see it was a man on the front porch of a house across the street, a house that has nothing but Spanish people living in it. I see them all the time sitting on the porch when I come home, and coming and going with their many children. I swear there must be a good 12 people that live in this house…or maybe they just visit a lot.
Anyway, as soon as I saw the house, it registered that this guy was yelling in Spanish. The few words my brain comprehended were, “aqui,” “Dios,” and I think “Puta” was said several times, too. I’m a gringa, though, so don’t take my word for it.
It was quite amusing to watch this guy. He took off his shirt, threw it over his shoulder, lit a cigarette, and gesticulated wildly all while letting whomever he thought his audience was know his opinions. He paced back and forth across the porch, leaned against the brick pillar with one hand, dragged on his cigarette with the other, and continued his tirade.
After it seemed this guy wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, my need for sleep got the best of me so I called the non-emergency police line at 1:48am. At 1:52 (not bad for a non-emergency response), two patrol cars entered from both ends of the street and all four cops got out and approached the front steps. Drunken Spanish guy actually didn’t stop his speech until the police were at the first stair! One of the cops instructed the guy to come down and show some ID. I thought for sure drunken spanish guy was going to fall flat on his face the way he swayed down each step. I couldn’t hear the ensuing conversation, but after a few minutes the guy staggered back up and went inside.
By then, though, I was wide awake and Vedder was ready for another bathroom break. I think I managed to fall back to sleep around 3am, but my internal alarm clock inevitably wakes me around 5am, so I just tossed and turned until 6:30. *yawn*
Current Mood:
Exhausted
Confused