Dear Upstairs Neighbors,

Congratulations on being early risers and liking country music. If I weren't on vacation I'd probably come upstairs and beat you senseless (which shouldn't take very long, you're already pretty much there). Playing "Her Achy-Breaky Heart Thinks My Tractor's Sexy So Her Dog Done Left Me" (Remix) at jet engine decibels at 0700 is not endearing.

In fact, it's pretty much likely to wreck the dream I'm having 'bout freakish flying crustaceans in my elementary school, where I'm drawing blood on patients in classrooms, and I'm going to be more than a little pissed about it. (After all, I was just about to go into my first grade classroom for the first time in about 25 years...)

Hate you, hate everything about you.

Sauce.

PS- I'm willing to bet that the note the landlords left on the front door a week and a half ago, about the A/C guys coming the week of the 9th will STILL BE UP when I get back next weekend. Why? Because I'm the only one who ever takes care of that shit. See also: the lights in the hallways have been burned out for 3 months, because I am sick of being the only one who ever calls in for shit.