Grumpy writer

After being up late writing, my lazy Saturday morning sleep-inย was rudely interrupted by the upstairs neighbors. They were…I really don’t know what they were doing, but it sounded like they were playing basketball…with a bowling ball.

I stumbled out of bed and realized I couldn’t even make myself a conciliatory coffee, because my husband had whisked away the coffee machine for a bachelor party weekend away from the city.

So here I am. Awake with the rooster, yawning and staring grumpily at the ceiling, hoping I will miraculously develop Superman-type laser eyes so I can smash the bowling-basket-ball into pieces. Sipping an unfulfilling cup of green tea, while contemplating if I should start writing murder mysteries, so I can kill off the irritating upstairs people without getting caught. I even have a title:ย The Mysterious Disappearance of the Noisy Neighbors.ย (PS:ย the butler didn’t do it ๐Ÿ™‚ )

Whaddaya think? Shall I give it a go? ๐Ÿ˜€