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Cicadas when I’m trying to write late at night: “I respect you and want you to succeed, so let me sit on your window and scream about it.”
I just opened my office window and told the damned bugs on the screen to go get laid somewhere else because I couldn’t think straight from their noise. Our neighbors probably think I’m nuts. Meh. They drive ugly cars; people who drive ugly cars don’t get an opinion on my sanity or lack thereof.
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For me, it’s tree frogs who chorus with the cicadas, and one particularly nocturnal groundhog, who likes to thump underneath my cottage at around 2 or 3 in the morning.
The daft one asks me why I’m poking at the laptop in the middle of the night. I’m still trying to understand how he can sleep...
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If you ever write your memoir, you’ve got to call it Screaming at the Bugs.
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