A few days ago I was awakened at 5:30 in the morning by an idiot neighbor blasting the Red Hot Chili Peppers from the car stereo of their beat up 1997 Trans-Am. Noise like this never happens in our quiet little neighborhood. I'm sure the octogenerians were apoplectic. No, on second thought they probably were already up getting ready to mow their lawns for the third time in a week.Anyway, I was too tired to see what was up and the noise didn't last long. But I did learn something. Simba doesn't like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He growled like a dog toward the direction of the music when Kimberly let him out of his room. Then he hopped up on the bed where I was still trying to sleep, gave me a kneading neck massage and laid on my back until I got up at 6:00 am.
