After writing furiously last night, I crawled into bed around quarter after ten. Not bad, really. The problem came when what I thought were kids outside woke me up shortly after 11. I wish it was kids because no matter how noisy the obnoxious urchins are, they're usually on their way somewhere else.
Nope. The voice I was hearing was an auctioneer. Yes, you heard right. An auctioneer at that time of night. And he would punctuate each sale with a kind of a YIP! right before he said SOLD! When I investigated further, I discovered some kind of friggin' livestock auction started around 7 last night, and it must've run long. The thing is, I didn't hear it at all until 11pm. Some numbnuts must've turned up the volume for some stupid reason.
So, there I lay, trying to get back to sleep through all the YIPs and SOLDs. After twenty minutes, I gave up and settled onto the couch with a book. Around midnight thirty I finished the book and realized the auction was finally over. The problem then became my lack of sleepiness. I grabbed another book and read until around one.
Back to bed I went.
The fireworks woke me up at 2AM. Yes, fireworks. Some local idiot got ahold of some illegal fireworks somewhere and he's been periodically shooting them off since Independence Day. Why he picked 2am is beyond me. Maybe he got kicked out of the bar and decided to continue his inebriation at home. Sounded like gunfire and scared the crap out of me. Plus it woke my husband up, and he's been having a tough enough time sleeping lately. If I ever find the guy with the rockets, I'm kicking him in the family jewels.
One hour of sleep, two hours awake, one hour of sleep, one hour awake, then three hours of sleep does not make for a happy camper. Soooo, I'm a wee smidge cranky this morning. I swear there isn't enough coffee in this town to take the edge off last night's after effects. I'll be happier later. I promise.