who woulda' guessed?

I was wound up last night like a... like a... a wind-up toy? That's it, like those little teeth you wind up and they chatter around on their little legs. I didn't start out that way though- I had been working on some school work and was getting very sleepy. I finished, well sort of, and decided to go to bed. It was 1 am. I got ready for bed and took forever. It was 1:30 am. I got into bed, pulled up the covers around my chin, squirmed around until my face was in the right spot on the pillow. I was hungry. I cannot and will not sleep hungry. So I got up and got a bowl of cheerios. At this point, I am no longer sleepy... my mind is cranking obnoxiously loud. While I eat my cheerios I attempt to put my mind at ease by more completely finishing my school work. Damn grad school and group projects with social contingencies! 2nd bowl of cereal and documents posted. It was 2:00 am. Now I am exhausted, but this lame attempt to stop the gears was not sufficient! I would need a heavy wrench to throw in there- like being hit over the head with a heavy wrench. My body is exhausted and my malicious mind betrays me. I climb back into bed anyway. It was 2:15 am. Once again, I adjust the covers so that they are layered just right and are folded around my chin, I roll around until my pillow is shaped around my face, and I put my feet in that spot against Joe's warm legs where they seem to be made to fit.

Buh Da Duh Buh Da Duh Buh Da Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Buh Da Duh...........

There's a F*#@ing party upstairs. Those stupid girls. I will hurt them! Or at least think about how much I dislike them now. I've never met them, but I've seen them- and now I am sure I can't stand them.

I mutter under my breath some choice profanities, which awakens Joe. He hears it too. Unlike me, he doesn't just think about how much he dislikes them... he puts on his clothes and mutters a few things and goes outside. When he comes back he listens to see if he can still here the bass from the dance music and gives his report:

He had knocked on the door and asked her to turn down the music, but, it's not coming from upstairs. It's coming from the apartment behind us (sharing a wall with our bedroom). IT'S THE OLD LADY. The 60-something granny. The granny that was wearing slippers and a nightgown at 5 pm when Eliza and I knocked on her door to ask if she had seen our cat. OMG, WTF, NOOOOO WAAAAY. Is this my Bizarro world?!? I'm the old granny with an elderly husband asking the young 20-something to turn down her music. I don't even care. I'll be the old granny I JUST WANT TO SLEEP. It was 2:45 am.

Buh Da Duh Buh Da Duh Buh Da Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Buh Da Duh...........

No Way. Seriously? Is this happening? Joe mutters disgustedly, "Most people don't realize how bass carries." He calmly sits up, turns around and pounds on the wall-- the wall of an OLD LADY. I'm like, "What, does she have dementia?" Which is not funny, since over 50% of people above 80 have Alzheimer's. Seriously, not cool Michelle. But, if she did have dementia she might not know it's not DAY TIME. My mind goes on.... It is still rumbling through the wall and the floor and into my inner ear. It's not just Bizarro world, it's the f-ing Twilight Zone: I WANT OUT. Joe gets up and walks to another area of the wall and pounds the hell out of it.

Finally it stops. And now I am just a little embarassed to bump into her (even though I am pretty sure she doesn't leave her apartment) because this groovy granny might think I am uncool.