So, summer's here finally. Things are settled down, and I have some time to sit back and catch up on everything that's been going on the last few weeks.
And while I do that, I gues to supremely destroy my sleep schedule. :D In spending all of my nights talking online with Caity (Who's now safely relocated to Illinois) and all the Europeans I work with, I've managed to put myself on European time. I went to bed at Four in the afternoon and woke up at midnight. What a silly little mess.
But it means I get to see some nice sunrises, and enjoy the sounds of the morning. A summer morning always has the best sound to me; it's perfectly still, except for the birds chirping and cooing.
The sounds of pigeons cooing is always the sign to me that summer is here, and it's a sound that brings a wierd reaction to me. I hate pigeons, like I hate them — They are disgusting little creatures, and they serve no purpose but to carry disease.
But the sounds of pigeons in the morning are somehow peaceful, beautiful even. For some reason, nothing puts me more at ease than that distinctive cooing. It reminds me a bit of my childhood, when I'd wake up that early on the weekends, to watch TV and play some video games, because that's just what we did on Saturday mornings. Or staying up all night with Matt playing video games and falling asleep finally when the pigeons could be heard.
Such evil little creatures, but they make a Six thirty walk to the gas station so much more beautiful.