Reasons why I can't wait to start housesitting, and I quote:

"RATATATATATATATATATcrashthudRATATATATATATbreakingglass": the sound of construction workers laboring to turn the computer lab, which happens to be about fifty yards from my room, into housing. Damn this school's upsurge in popularity. Granted, the fact that I can't stand to be in my room from about 9 in the morning till 2 in the afternoon has helped my productivity. But still. It would be nice if they could do it a little more rhythmically; maybe then I could pretend I was listening to that one song by Tool.
"BOOMBOOMBOOMdropitlikeit'shaaawwwtttBOOMBOOMBOOM":my closest typographical approximation of the party going on right now in the dorm lounge, which is across a courtyard from me. Not that I'm anti-party, but I checked this one out, and it's all people I've never seen before. I'm not sure any of them even go to school here--they looked all dressed up, a description that usually doesn't belong in the same sentence with "Pomona student." Which begs the question: in addition to renting out rooms in the nicer dorms over the summer, does the administration turn all the lounges into raves? How much more money does this place need?
"The PHAAAAAN-tom of the op-er-a is HEEEERE, inside your MIIIIND...": that would be my charming next-door neighbor, whom I still haven't met, singing to himself at 8 in the morning. I'm a little scared to introduce myself. All I know about him is that he's always in his room, he enjoys show tunes, and every so often he makes tapping noises on the wall. When I say "wall," I mean the term loosely: there's only about two inches of plaster separating me from this...whoever the hell he is.
"crackcrackcrackcrackFWOOOSH": the stovetop in the kitchen, struggling to light itself. It's a gas stove, and the order of things is that you turn on the gas, then turn the knob to this narrow red line, which supposedly activates some kind of lighting mechanism. With each "crack" before the "FWOOSH", I get more and more paranoid that the stove is quietly filling the kitchen with invisible, highly flammable gas, and by the time the lighter finally works...(insert your favorite explosion onomatopoeia here)
I can't believe some people are living here for the entire summer. And I can't believe some of them are paying for it. I hope they had the good sense to bring earplugs. And fire safety gear.