Return to the Roost

After about a month away during which I enjoyed the blissfulness of relative quietude, the Harpies in the apartment below have returned and with all their customary cackling and squawkwing and carrying on so at the strangest hours. It's the most curious thing. You won't hear a peep until three or four in the morning when you are suddenly awakened by a bout of loud and obnoxious squawking, almost as though they have joyfully returned from a successful night of hunting with hapless victim clutched in their bloody talons. They have this habit of carrying on long and involved conversations from opposite ends of the apartment, presumably one is in the kitchen heating up a skillet and the other is down the hall somewhere field-dressing the prey. Presumably during their time away they've learned to cook since they're not setting off the smoke detector nearly as often as they did prior to the hiatus. But in all fairness, they don't carry on so every single night, though it happens frequently enough for them to earn the label of "annoying."