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The things that go through your mind in the middle of the night

I woke up in the middle of the night, as I sometimes do, in an agitated state worrying that the neighbors might firebomb my garage after I ratted them out to bylaw.

I ratted them out to bylaw because they are running some kind of illegal operation, either a business or a school, which requires at least a hundred minivans to pull up a day and block my driveway. You might ask: why don't you go and talk to them directly?

The reason is simple. I don't actually think anyone lives in the house. There are streams of young people, including children, going into and out of the house but I haven't identified one single person who seems to be a resident of the pile. So who, exactly, does one ask?

As a result of the congestion, the street is turning dangerous especially after a snowfall when the plows are trying to negotiate the street. Plows can't exactly weave in and out of a sea of minivans, especially ones that are parked in the middle of the street. Also, the garbage guys are getting a bit frustrated picking up nine hundred pizza boxes every other week.

So I called bylaw.

I did it.

I'm not sorry.

Within hours, there was not one minivan in sight. Not one. Not even the fumes of one. There are still young people streaming in and out. Oh yes, and we did spy a very angry large man staring at us through the window.

Which led to my feelings that my house was about to be fire-bombed.

Which led to me thinking that we needed a fire plan. How exactly does one get out of a house that has been firebombed? I couldn't even find my shoes. In my mind.

So I woke up Scott out of a drug induced stupor, the result of a horrible day spent yesterday having the roots pulled out of his mouth by a happy dentist. Then I got thinking: when Philip Seymour Hoffman bought 20 bags of heroin, didn't he think to himself: "hmmmm, that's a lot".

The things that go through your mind in the middle of the night.
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