Our street is not very long. Yet, despite this fact, I would estimate that there are around 100 men, women, and children that live on it. The entire other side of the street consists of townhouses, filled mainly by low-income families. (Although you would never know it by the row of brand-new half-tons that sit along the curb. Oh, and the Harley. But that's beside the point.)

Now, considering that the two main employers in this town are the pulp mill and the regionl health centre, it's safe to say that there are a few people who live on our street that work shift-work. They probably hoard whatever sleep they can get.

Also, there are many families with young children on our street. So, even for those who do not work shift-work, I imagine that the pre-dawn hours, while the sun is still down and the children still in bed, are usually devoted to the land of Nod. (Especially if, like me, they were up until 1:30 a.m. preparing lesson plans for the week, etc.)

Despite all this, at the rosy hour of 5:30 a.m., a full hour before sunrise, some inconsiderate jerk started honking their horn repeatedly to gain the attention of whomever they were giving a ride to. We're not talking once, or even twice. This went on. And on.

Jason is far too nice sometimes. He said that he "seriously thought about going out and giving them a piece of his mind" after he got up to find out what was going on. Apparently, it was still too early and fuzzy to actually voice the thoughts that went through his head, and mine:

"What, have you never heard of a doorbell?!"

*Quote from Calvin and Hobbes, by Bill Watterson