Love Has No Bedtime

So, before the rain woke me up this morning, I had another little fun surprise. At about two a.m. I started dreaming about Alanis Morisette, which was ok because I don't hate her. I actually really like her first album as well as the acoustic version released ten years later - and no I don't hate men. Nor have I ever.

Unfortunately though, I wasn't dreaming. Some girl was screaming "You, you, you outta know!" At the top of her lungs while walking past my house. I was pretty sure she was drunk and this was her way of whistling herself home, but she stopped at my neighbor's house and proceeded to sing THE ENTIRE SONG. And then . . . she started it over again, this time with feeling.

A neighbor must have opened the door because all of a sudden she stopped and cheerfully said, "Oh hi! Uh huh. Yes I was just lajfasld ahldfkjaslk. .. " her voice faded so I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but after the brief conversation she got in her car and drove away honking.

And I hope, oh how I hope, that the real story is that she had just gone through a break up with my neighbor and decided that through the unholy hour and clever lyrics of a one, Miss Morisette, she could accurately convey the emotions she was feeling all night long.

Because what else could it have been? It definitely wasn't a sweet serenade I can tell you that much. Now I just need to figure out which neighbor it is and perhaps introduce myself, because he's gotta be pretty awesome to get someone so fired up.