Rip Van Winkle
I stayed up til midnight last night. I know, whoop-de-frickin-do. It's not like I was at work til 1am, or something equally disgusting. And it's not like I was doing anything productive, like exercising. Although I was breathing rather hard. And I'd be willing to bet that my cheeks were flushed. Ah, but I digress.What I'm trying to say is that there's no good reason why I should have slept through the pounding of men in a goddamn cherry picker, hammering the roof right above my wee living room. I love being in the penthouse - from my fourth floor windows, I can see clearly into the parking lot of the complex next door. Can't shake a stick at that, my friends. But life at the top does have its drawbacks at times.
As it is, I did sleep through the cherry picker men and their gavels. Thank god Alan, or Adam, or AnnoyingMan from National Magazine Company called to wake me up. I really shoulda thanked him, rather than mumbling 'no thanks' at him and hanging up.
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