Chainsaw Dreams.

Here's the thing: I can see how quickly you are turning the land around next door. Just last week, the day after Christmas, you began demolition on one of the most dilapidated houses I have ever seen. Online the land's sale profile stated in bold letters, "DO NOT ENTER HOUSE," and from my bedroom I could see the mold and vines growing, twisting in and out of the shack's windows. I'm sure you're in a hurry to get the house taken down and a brand new mold-free house erected in its stead, and I know that legally you can begin jackhammering, bulldozing, and most importantly, chain-sawing at 8am. But seriously, I work in the service industry. I don't know what it feels like to be up at 8am on New Year's Day, or the day after New Year's Day, or any day for that matter.

Yet, here I am. The coffee is brewing. The heat is cranked. And I am writing.

It seems when I began this post, I wanted to run outside and rip the chainsaw free from the hands of the man wearing the Carhartt jacket, scream at him to consider the sleep schedule of others and abscond with his torture device, but now, I'm calm. Seems this was a blessing in disguise. This isn't to say I want the whirring of a cyclical scratcher blade as my alarm clock daily, but for today I can drink my coffee and bang away at my keyboard. Thanks, Demo-Man.