An Englishman in New England

It's an interesting thing when you find something (or someone) that pushes your buttons. You know, gets you really seething. Those that know me would probably describe me as pretty placid (I said placid, not fla- ah forget it). I mean, I'm english - we don't have emotions, only clever put-downs delivered with arched eyebrows and a little twist at the corner of our mouths.

But last night I lay awake, sleep-deprived and furious, and sincerely wished the guy in the apartment below me a screaming pointy death. And not the fun kind either, I wanted the real "Yo, I hate the guy too, but dude, you have to lay off" sick enjoyment kind of pointy, scraping death.

See, this guy has moved into my apartment building below me. He's in some stupid college, which in itself is fine - I myself only graduated a few months ago. He also bought himself a puppy, which also of itself is fine - I have no problem with dogs. What I did have a problem with was the fact that this guy bought himself a puppy, and then stayed out all night, while the damn dog yelped, whined and generally made everyone else in the building an unwilling participant in its isolated misery.

For the next 8 hours.

Like I said, pointy death is called for. But in 'Civilization', the best freakin' equivalent is a firm note taped to his front door, asking him to "please keep your dog quiet if it's not too terribly difficult - I really feel terribly awfully bad about asking you to do this, but you see, I had a horribly difficult time getting to sleep last night, and I know this is america, and you have all these rights, but if it's okay with you, I mean I'm terribly sorry to ask, but if you could possibly manage to keep the noise down at night, I would be most awfully grateful".

Sometimes I hate being a vicitm of my polite heritage.