Checking My Pulse

Have you ever wondered where trains come from? I mean, you see the train rolling down the tracks, but there's gotta be some place out there where the attach all those train cars, right? I'm pleased to tell you that I now know where that place is. Two blocks North of my house. I know this because of the constant subtle sounds of train cars smashing together, creaking and scraping along the tracks. Trains also operate 24/7, in case you were wondering. It is nice that the trains are usually moving slowly, though, so their melodic sounds aren't too loud. But let me tell you a little more about the rest of my neighborhood. A quarter-mile South of my house is the busiest train line in the United States. No exaggeration. The railroad employees consider it a point of pride. Directly above me is the final approach for the busiest airport and Air National Guard base in the state of North Dakota. Directly below me is the fight club for the neighborhood cats. They sneak in through a hole in the foundation and seem to throw each other up against my duct work for an extra-stylish k.o. I also have a streetlight directly outside my bedroom window that seems to continually grow brighter. Astronomer's are predicting that when it goes supernova, which should be soon, my house will be sucked into the black hole that is created. I sleep in my garage now.