It’s Fahim’s birthday today, and no, that’s not why. But I do feel sorry for him because I’m being irritable.
I’ve been awake since four.
There’s a house down the hill that we figure the music must be coming from. This drunk guy puts his karaoke machine on loud enough that it wakes me up, and then he sings along with it, and very badly. At first, when we heard it from the old house, we thought it was foreigners because it’s western music, but now that we have a view, what with living on the top of the hill and all, we can see which houses have lights on, and it’s not a foreigner’s house.
Fahim figures the guy is probably a government employee, which also means that, even if the cops would normally do something about the loud music at 4 in the morning, which, come on, this is Sri Lanka, so of course they wouldn’t, they definitely wouldn’t for this guy.
And this guy has been doing this every couple of weeks or month or so since I moved here.
I’m stuck in karaoke hell.
Then the guy finally shuts it off. Passes out? Servants turn it off? Whichever.
Then, because today is Poya day, the Buddhist temple, which we’re closer to in this house than we were in the old one, starts in with their loud drums and chanting.
I CAN’T WIN!!!!!!!
