"Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk to you again," sings Simon and Garkunkel. So while watching the All-Star game last evening I fell asleep on the couch. No surprise since it was kind of a boring game, although Ichiro's inside the park homer was kinda cool. Too bad, due to him and Johnny Damon, the Twins don't have a shot at keeping Torii Hunter, unless he takes a very good hometown deal. So I wake up around 11:30 and head to bed.
I'm tossing and turning for about an hour. And I'm just on the cusp of falling asleep, when I start to hear a mattress noise. And it's not mine. That's right, the 19-year-old-Aveda-in-training upstairs neighbor is having sex. And her mattress is taking a beating.
I've been scarred with sex stories since high school. And I really think it's because I never want to know anyone's stories that this stuff happens to me. Luckily, upstairs girl and her friend weren't making any noises, only the mattress was. But still. All I could do was put my pillows and holler "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA" at the top of my lungs, hoping with my window open they would hear me and at least tone it down.
I don't know if it's their age, if alcohol was involved or if they heard me, but exactly three minutes of my "La-LA-La-ing" it, silence returned. And yes, the sounds of silence were my friends. And I went to sleep, eventually.
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