I scream, you scream, we all scream
I was at my absolute most irritable time of month last night, and my mood was not helped by the fact that I had to bring some work home. I did it after dinner, sitting at the big table, drinking beer in an effort to feel less irritable, which sort of works, but has an obvious knock-on effect on one's ability to process information and articulate sensible responses to it.
The table is practically *in* next door's house, so if the students open the windows and start screaming, as they do with tedious regularity (what can be so exciting? Did I spend my 20th year making mindless screechy woo noises? I don't think I did, but perhaps I've just forgotten) it can get oppressive pretty quickly. Sure enough, the noise started and I gritted my teeth, glared pointlessly in their general direction, and stabbed away at the keyboard.
But then there was a genuinely horrific scream and my blood went cold. It sounded like one of them was being attacked, or someone had cut their head open. I ran out into the garden and looked over the fence into their back room, trying to see what was wrong.
But they were all in there, drinking and smoking and laughing away. Then I realised the noise was coming from our house.
Turned out it was housemate P listening to Diamanda Galas Really Pretty Loud. Drown out the screaming with more screaming, well, why not?
I laughed, went back inside and turned up the PJ Harvey.