Wake up call

Someone new moved in downstairs, and of all the annoying habits and quirks that neighbours can possess, ours plays the recorder. That stupid little plastic "instrument" that is only capable of hitting so many notes, making each song sound strangely similar. The same instrument that is generally reserved for children who can't manage the intricacies of a real instrument yet. The instrument that, in most households, ends up being hidden, deep in a cluttered closet because it produces the most inelegant, irritating sound that drives families to the brink of insanity. Ours were taken away repeatedly as kids. It was really more like a weapon of extreme torture than a tool of musical expression.

This morning Luc lined up for a Mountain Equipment Co-op sale at 5:30am. He snagged some really great showshoes at an enormous discount, so it was worth it...but obvisouly he hit a wall of exhaustion this afternoon. Being the supportive fiance that I am, I joined him for an afternoon nap. The sun was shining in through the bedroom window and a light breeze blew in every few minutes. It was very pleasant until our awesome new neighbour started tooting away on their recorder.

Initially, I was confused. I was in the sort of state where dreams and reality blend together and you're still mad at your boyfriend for ditching you at the miniature monkey museum to make jam with Hannah Montana. Upon opening my eyes I was face to face with Luc, whose eyes were also wide open. The slight raise of his eyebrows told me that I wasn't hearing things. I wasn't dreaming. Someone was playing the recorder and he heard it too. If I stood up and looked outside, I wouldn't find a Medieval Fair below our bedroom window. Even still, I kept expecting to hear a wench yell out "huzzah" and tent full of drunken jesters to break out in old-timey laughter...whatever that sounds like.

We slid out of bed and walked on shaky legs to the window. It was our neighbour, no question about it. The out of tune notes sailed up and smacked us in the face. I hope to god it's a phase.