Sleep Is A Sacred Thing

Having neighbors has to be one of the most stressful situations ever. You’re required to be constantly pleasant to the strangers that live next door all the time, regardless of their attitude towards you. In all fairness, most of my neighbors are decent people. The nice ones brought us muffin baskets when we first moved to the neighborhood. The really nice ones left us alone in peace. But then there are the really obnoxious neighbors- the neighBUTTS. Every neighborhood has them, no street is complete without their presence. Remember- when you get sick and tired of your neighbutts, find comfort in the thought that mine are probably worse.

The main problem would have to be the rooster. My darling neighbutts have this wonderful rooster that starts crowing at 4:30 am. I kid you not, I honestly wake up every morning thinking I’m in Little House on the Prairie. Or that I’ve been kidnapped and put into a burlap sack in the middle of a barn in rural Iowa. But no, it’s just the damn rooster next door. And it gets worse. This rooster is either old or has a perpetually sore throat, so it’s crowing is always hoarse. If you’re going to interrupt my precious sleep, at least give me a clear crow.

If my neighbutts are reading this, and they’re probably not, I just want to make one thing clear: sleep is a sacred thing. Why can’t you be normal like all the other neighbors on the street and just gossip behind everyone’s backs? Excuse me for thinking that my own house is a peaceful place in which I can get some shut-eye. Personally, I feel that a person’s home is their safe haven- a place where they can put their hair up, take off their makeup, dance like an idiot, and eat too much cake without feeling judged.

But no. The neighbutts have taken all of that away from me. Last week, Mrs. Neighbutt mentioned to my mother that she “loves it when she drives by and sees our family through the windows”. Aside from being VERY creepy, these 13 words have ruined all comfort I previously had around my house (13 is an unlucky number… oh the irony). Because my mother is now paranoid that Mr. and Mrs. Neighbutt are potentially spying on us 24/7, I am required to be fully clothed at all times. After having to wear skinny-jeans all day long, I am denied the luxury of coming home and jumping into an XXL t-shirt. I have to wear pants AT HOME.

If you see the tragedy in my situation, please come and rescue me. My house isn’t hard to find- just follow the unbearable cock-a-doodle-doo-ing. If you do not see the tragedy in my situation, you are most likely a neighbutt yourself, and deserve to be eaten alive. By a sore-throated rooster. At 4:30 am. 

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