Saturday, September 24, 2011

Saturday Morning in Round Rock

Thursday night, I slept hardly at all.  I don't really know why, but the result was a very long Friday.  Last night, I went to bed relatively early...i.e., before midnight.  It was a nice night for sleeping.  With temperatures expected to drop into the upper 50s, I opened my bedroom window and actually pulled a blanket out of the pile at the foot of my bed and snuggled down for a nice Autumn sleep.  I dreamed, as I often do, of a costume.  It was a very nice gown that would not have looked out of place in the Ascot scene from "My Fair Lady."

And then I woke up.  To the strains of pop music, coming in my open window.  In the dark.  Blearily, I tried to focus on the clock.  It said 5:45.  It's about 15 minutes fast, which made that 15 minutes more of an outrage.

Dearly Beloved, I live right behind the high school, and the band practices weekdays, starting at about 6:30.  That, I'm used to.  But canned music, on Saturday morning, an hour before anyone should be up...not so much.  I thought I might as well go for a walk, so I piled into some clothes and hit the street, following the music.  I tracked it around the corner to the swimming pool.  Tents were being raised, and pennants hung, waiting for a breeze.  Somebody turned up the music, and somebody else pulled into the parking lot.  I decided to have a word.

Of course, it's a swim meet.  Now, why didn't I realize that?  The pool is closed for the season, and all the community swim teams are open for business.  The gentleman I accosted in the parking lot told me he had been running these meets for ten years, and I was the first to complain.  He asked me how I cope with the marching band when they are strutting their stuff, and I told him I heard them, after I was actually...well...up.  On weekdays.

We agreed that I probably became aware of this ten-year, early-Saturday-morning tradition because of the the cool weather and the open window.  He told me he would tell the kids to turn it down (like you do).

Right.  I continued with my walk, and by the time I got home, it was just as loud. 

At least it was later.

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