How are you? I am tired. Although I went to bed early last night, I was awoken this morning, as usual, by the newspaper delivery person.
We do not get the newspaper delivered anymore. No. We put a stop to that two months ago. But our nearest and dearest neighbors DO and the driver’s car is driving me insane. Every morning, at some point between 3:58 and 5:38 am, it’s NEWS TIME!
For weeks I have awoken, groggy, to the deep reverberation of a car. BBBbbbrrrrrrrrrr… BRrrrrrrrrrrrrr.. BBBRRrrrrrrrrrr… <stop> BbbbRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr… BBBrrrrrrrRRRrrr… BBBrrrrrrrrrrrr.. <stop> And so on. I lay half-awake in the dark, noting the time on the alarm clock, the stock stillness of the house pitted against the caffeinated jolt of a car that should have been crushed years ago. I shake a weary fist in the dark. I listen as the craptastic vehicle makes its amped-up way from house to house, tossing out papers, before fading into the blackness from whence it came.
Some days I fall back asleep. Others, I lay in bed for hours, pondering everything imaginable. Like the prospect of taking a month off to drive 1200 miles to get away from the newspaper delivery driver’s car. And whether today could be THE DAY. The day when I crack and finally phone the Portland Press Herald to complain.
But what do you do when someone’s livelihood depends on a car? A car that can only be driven in the dead of night because there’s NO FREAKING WAY it could possibly pass inspection? And the driver is surely just a normal person, trying to scrape out a living delivering newspapers in the dark, in a car that has most certainly rendered him/her hard-of-hearing. So sad.
Instead of ratting out the impoverished, deaf, newspaper delivery person, I have begun asking God for a merciful end to this torment. My prayers go something like this: Please Lord, let the newspaper delivery person be saving up for a muffler so that he/she can start delivering pizzas during the day. Please let some delicious free pizza show up on my doorstep. And, most importantly, please let the next newspaper person drive a Prius. Amen.