I woke up wanting to photoshop kittens flying on magic carpets made of pancakes.
What is the favored currency to buy a bird’s silence?
I just need this one to be quiet until say, 7 am on weekdays and 10 am on weekends and holidays.
He’s loud. So loud. And he starts at about 4.50 am every day. I get it, the sun is all kinds of amazing when it peeks into the night, but some of us have to be able to sleep so that we can keep from hallucinating at the office.
We tried white noise making things to cover him up, but nope.
We are now taking turns in the wee hours of the morning, like new parents, we are taking alternating shifts of being the one who sleep shuffle walks into the yard and kicks the tree this bird is in so that he flies away for a glorious hour, hour and a half.
Can’t wait for my next performance review. “Describe a conflict you encountered and how you resolved it.”
"Well, I wasn’t getting enough sleep so I went outside and kicked the trees to scare the bird away. Give me a raise, I’m a problem solver."
This is what happens when we have a big event to attend, I am ready first (like, a whole hour early), and I find his phone laying on the table while he is in the shower. He’s going to be all what the what?
Oh, boisterous Tyler. You rammed your adorable noggin into my giant lady purse no less than 3 times while I waited in the register line with my fellow human beings. Your dad just kept saying “Tyler, Stop. Tyler. Stop.”
Your dad took the bubbles off of the conveyor belt and you noticed. You made a noise that was like acidic air thrown into our faces. “Tyler. Stop.”
You didn’t stop. In fact, you got louder and solidified your spot in any government’s secret program to use noise to break enemies. I broke. I, who find humor in most child hissy fits (because I’m a jackass and don’t have kids), especially when back arching and floor hugging are involved, I broke and wanted to buy you the bubbles to make it stop. “Tyler. Stop.”
Your assault did not stop. Your pod followed me into the parking lot and your father kept his bass line in ratio with your volume. “Tyler. Stop.”
My DNA is different now. I kinda hate you. Tyler.