happy...

start-powerwashing-your-house-at-eight-o'stinkin'-clock-in-the-morning-on-yet-another-holiday Fourth of July to everyone. Seriously. This is not a retirement village. If I wasn't so sure he was the same sourpuss that called the police a couple summers ago because he wasn't invited to our bongo party in the back yard maybe it wouldn't bother me enough to whine about it in blogland. Or the same guy that mowed his grass early the day after Thanksgiving and woke up our company that thought they'd take advantage of the holiday and sleep in.

As I'm typing I can hear at least three other early mowers. Which is fine. At least it's a hypnotic humming you can sleep through. But this guy and his happy little retired wife have a power washer going at rattling volume right next to my window. It's times like these my faith requires sacrifice. Or at least it will. It will ask me to put down my equally irritating power washer when her little ladies club meets for lunch on their deck next time around. It will ask me to keep turning the outdoor speakers down when their lights go off for the night. It will ask me to lay aside this resentment brewing within me, fueled with each semi-sarcastic word I write and face it: I am just not a morning person. But there has got to be some sort of etiquette we can all live with. For cryin-out-stinkin-loud. Have you heard a power washer???

So I'm up. And now he's up too. Terrific. And it looks like it's going to rain. Beautiful. Apparently the Big Dude was unaware of my anticipated pool day. Unless He thought we'd appreciate a day like today to SLEEP IN.

Okay. Finished here.