Through The Window
I used to live in a first floor apartment that bordered on the parking lot of a small Mexican restaurant. A lot of people used it as a party area, as it was fairly well shielded from the road and not very brightly lit. One August night I woke to the sound of Dave Mathiews, playing at near concert-volume outside my window. I like the music, but at four AM on a work night all it did was piss me off. I peeled the bedsheet off of my body and, without my glasses, made my way to the kitchen window to...