Call time.

Right. Okay. So, I'm pretty tired today. You know why? Some fucking production down the street was noisy as hell last night and woke me up WELL before my alarm was due to go off.

I sat there in bed, listening to the trucks and the gennies and the fucking assholes outside yelling about the trucks and the gennies and where to park and...

And it's hot outside these days. And I have no AC, so I have to keep my windows open or boil. Y'know?

So, yeah. I'm laying there. Stewing. Thinking about how many fucking notices I get warning about various productions in the area. And how I never call to complain about all the noise they make and... I decided I deserved some compensation. It's been a long week getting to this long weekend. So, I stumbled to my living room where I found the filming notice. And I grabbed the phone and was about to dial when I noticed something strange.

My show's locations manager was listed as the contact.

In my dazed state, I couldn't figure out why. I figure she probably works on a bunch of productions (I'm pretty bright when I'm woken up).

Um. In case you haven't guessed by now,

My own fucking show woke me up. And I almost complained.

Sigh.