I Dislike My Neighbor and Myself

I hate the guy on my block who can’t seem to control a problem with his car horn, but I hate myself even more for my continuing reaction to it. This morning I awoke at 5:45am or so, and heard the sound of a car horn going off repeatedly, as many car horns do as a security measure when something sets them off. This happens probably every three weeks or so with this particular neighbor’s car, and typically occurs at the least opportune time possible (previous horn incidents have taken place at 2:30am and 4:25am, and yes, I’m a very light sleeper). This, of course, pisses me off, but my neighbor’s behavior doesn’t piss me off nearly as much as my own. You see, every time I hear the repeated blasts of the horn, I end up wondering if there’s some small chance that I’m the guy who’s being a jerk to the entire neighborhood. So even though I know in my head that the noise is coming from my jackass neighbor’s car, I end up getting out of my bed to look out the window at my own car to make sure that its not the vehicle waking up half of the block. It never has been, and it probably never will be. But I’ll always be insane enough to check.