the rooster next door

As penance for my lack of consistency in blog posting, I am posting a second blog for your enjoyment.

(I know, you can hardly contain yourself!)

I had a rough night last night, as in, I got not sleep. I usually stay up pretty late as it is, and the internet has a way of sucking me in so that I am no longer able to recognize the time (damn you, stumble.) For the last couple of days, however, I have been making a slight effort to go to bed at a slightly normal hour (keep in mind that my usual hour of sleep is around three in the morning, so “slightly normal” comes sliding in around 1AM) and to get up at a slightly normal hour. (NOT the insane 6:00am that everyone else in my house gets up, but, like, still morning normal.)

Last night, I was already up later than I had planned, but I figured that if I could fall asleep fairly quickly I could still get a decent amount of sleep and be up and working by around 9AM.

Turns out, there is a bar/club not to far from my house.

Turns out, it is close enough for me to see from my roof-top room; and therefore, close enough for me to hear.

Turns out they play really loud, live music for most of the night.

Turns out, this really loud, live music switches to really loud, really drunk karaoke at about 3AM.

Turns out the bars and clubs here beat even NYC in their quest to stay open as late as possible, and as 5AM rolled around and I was still awake and still listening to some drunk, Dominican man scream and slur through another rendition of “Livin’ La Vida Loca”, I seriously contemplated calling the police (that was the plan of action anytime the drug addicts on my block made too much noise in the states)

And then I remembered that I was in a third world country where the police a) don’t speak my language, b) are probably AT the bar making most of the noise themselves, and c) would probably just show up and hit on me anyway.

Not long after these thoughts, the music finally stopped. I am a fan of both music and karaoke, but I have never been more grateful to hear silence in my life.

Did I mention that my neighbors in this country have a rooster?

Mere minutes after the music ended, the rooster began. For some, ridiculous, god forsaken reason, the rooster decided that despite the obvious darkness, crowing like a maniac was a good idea.

I have no idea how long this rooster crowed, but it did. Over and over again. Long enough for me to go outside onto the roof and try and figure out how to go about finding it. And killing it. Myself.

As far as I can tell, there is NO good reason to keep a rooster in a residential neighborhood. You want eggs? Keep a couple of hens. Whatever. But a rooster? Seriously?

It did eventually stop. In many ways, it saved its own life.

It turns out, that when I went outside to curse the rooster and the gods that brought it into existence, I let a very large, very stealthy mosquito into my room. So, when I finally lay back down in the sweet, sweet silence, it attacked me mercilessly. Turning the lights on and hunting it required energy I did not have, and therefore took longer than I imagine it normally would have.

I killed the mosquito somewhere near 6AM.

I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, I just know that now, at 1PM I am nursing through my second cup of coffee and still have strong desires to kill the rooster next door.

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