The Scene: our Parisian apartment, on a quiet courtyard on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. The bedroom window faces a courtyard. Occasionally, randomly, at weird hours, someone- I can not pinpoint the apartment, or even the building- plays music. Loudly. At 4 or 5 in the morning.
Typically, this is not party-time 5am French electronic pop music. Last time this happened, it was the Dire Straights. This time, it was Cat Stevens Greatest Hits.
I rolled out of bed, half pleased at the familiarity and half freaked out that a neighbor of mine would be listening to Cat Stevens THAT LOUD AT THAT TIME OF THE MORNING. The resident ravens haven't even had a chance to wake me up.
And now this.
I shut my double-glazed super soundproof windows in a huff and then fitfully go back to sleep. Except now my dreams are about Harold and Maude, and then Maude comes back to give me nightmares about Rosemary's Baby.