Estimated reading time: 1 minute, 1 second
Like the unwitting target of a cruel and coordinated practical joke, I was woken up everyday this week by a marching band practicing across the street from my bedroom window.
Brass, percussion, barking band teachers, it was all there each morning.
By getting off of work at 12:30 a.m. and not hitting the sack until close to 3, I am normally still sleeping the peaceful sleep of a child at 9 a.m., the time when the marching band fired up each day.
Given the unlikely chance of being woken up by a marching band for five days straight, I am left to ponder the possibilities of what might wake me up next week.
Taking into account such factors as weather patterns, neighborhood history, tides and seasonal angst, there is a high probability that I will awaken to either a clown playing banjo in the kitchen, a high-stakes chili cook-off and auction next door or a cage of chimpanzees in the next room working on typewriters.
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