On the eighth day of Christmas, a rant.

Dear backdoor neighbor who blasted all his fireworks towards my house. You must be sleeping soundly right now after all the irresponsible revelry you made last night, and I know, after all these years, that that comes with the thought that I’d pick on your mess by morning, which, I surmise, that you must be getting triply rich, judging from the number of sticks I have to bend over and collect. That’s all right. Vengeance is yours after I reminded you not to put barbed wires on your fence, because it is against the city ordinance. And the two times I asked baranggay to tell you to tone down the noise, because it was already midnight, and my children were studying for exams. Exams is a serious matter for us. After that, I was like that guy in the tv ad, I just have to endure your out-of-tune singing, and hoped you would treat me to a burger. Last night though was terrifying. I woke up like my house was on fire. But what can I do? I cannot curtail your merriment by shouting out the window to beg you to blow your bombs in your front yard. Just kept a prayer my house sustain your bombardment, And this morning, after a gasp at the state of my garden, I have to breathe in and condition my mind for some peace. It is New Year’s Day, after all. I am leaving fate to karma. Telling you though that one person you deprived sleep with is on duty today at the ER. And that couldn’t possibly be good karma. So, I checked my cp for a good image that would bring serenity to us all. And this blue tree popped. Christmas Season ends today, the eighth day of Christmas. Here’s to a blessed 2016. May neighbors be kind and congenial.