Coffee Table Declarations
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Last night something weird happened. I was sitting at my kitchen table by the window talking on the phone. All of a sudden a flash of light from outside caught my eye. I looked out and saw someone skulking around on the roof of the building next door with a flashlight.
As a concerned citizen, I placed a call to my local police department to let them know there was a person (potential burgler? escaped convict? serial killer?) on the roof with a flashlight. They asked me if I had access to my roof. I'm not sure what that had to do with anything. Were they planning to apprehend the suspect via the roof of my building? Luckily, I didn't have to find out. They conferred with one another in the background and then came back on the phone and told me they were just getting some kids off the roof. I was momentarily relieved.
Then I started thinking, what were punk kids doing running around on roofs in the middle of the night? I mean, it's bad enough that every time I go outside I have to deal with the old pervy guy who owns the small restaurant next door. He sits in the street all day and either grins lecherously as I pass by or if I walk on the other side of the street to avoid him, starts whistling at me to get my attention. Now I also have to contend with kids on the roof? At least there are no abandoned shopping carts lying forlornly in my yard like at my old apartment where one just appeared one day. Now I don't have a yard.
As a concerned citizen, I placed a call to my local police department to let them know there was a person (potential burgler? escaped convict? serial killer?) on the roof with a flashlight. They asked me if I had access to my roof. I'm not sure what that had to do with anything. Were they planning to apprehend the suspect via the roof of my building? Luckily, I didn't have to find out. They conferred with one another in the background and then came back on the phone and told me they were just getting some kids off the roof. I was momentarily relieved.
Then I started thinking, what were punk kids doing running around on roofs in the middle of the night? I mean, it's bad enough that every time I go outside I have to deal with the old pervy guy who owns the small restaurant next door. He sits in the street all day and either grins lecherously as I pass by or if I walk on the other side of the street to avoid him, starts whistling at me to get my attention. Now I also have to contend with kids on the roof? At least there are no abandoned shopping carts lying forlornly in my yard like at my old apartment where one just appeared one day. Now I don't have a yard.
