"Never mind what time it is. You go over there and tell them you're going to call the police if they don't turn off that radio-"
I yawned. "After two o'clock."
"Almost two-thirty. You just get up and-"
I laughed out loud, as loud as you can laugh at that time of the morning. "Roll over and go back to sleep," I told her. "They'll shut it off in a minute."
I shut my sleepy lids and went through the deep breath routine. The radio stopped. Then an afterthought; this was Friday, and I wanted to sleep late on a Saturday unsullied and unwelcomed by soap operas. Another deep breath, complicated by a yawn, and I went back to sleep.
* * * * *
Over our coffee Helen pulled aside the kitchen curtain.
"I thought there was some reason I didn't wake up until ten. Look across the street," and she pointed.
In front of the Olsen's, a red panel truck, Chuck's Radio Service. Next door, in front of the Werner's, Harper Radio Parts. In the Smith's driveway, Rapid Radio Repair.
"What are you grinning at?"