I love my neighborhood. It's a quiet community where (although Mr. Zips protests) I can leave my car doors unlocked with little fear and even occasionally have fallen asleep without closing my front door. (I don't recommend this, but I'm absent minded...) Everyone sits out on their porch on nice days and neighbors know each other's names -- and the names each other's dogs. It's a great place for families or child-free young adults who like quiet.
So I was a bit surprised when the College Students from HELL moved in next door. It's not bad enough that there seem to be a hundred of them living in the apartment. Or that they drive motorcycles. Or that one of them has a yappy dog that whines incessently until one of the girls screeches "Shut up!" at it. But the icing on the cake came the other night as I headed into my bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready. What was that chanting I heard? Are they religious? I wondered. Calling on Bloody Mary? Looking out the window I saw the cause. They were doing keg stands.
It horrifies me that I have become that neighbor - standing there and shaking my head, tsk tsking their decibal levels. But, really. This ain't Brighton.
Yesterday, though, I glimpsed a respite from party central. After putting some dinner in the oven, I'd headed out to the porch to do some reading. There was a hubbub next door. They were packing cars. Loading cases of beer and pillows into back seats and shouting about CDs to bring. They were going on a trip! It would be quiet! I could sleep!
At 7 a.m. this morning, house painters showed up to get to work on the house. Ladders clanged up. Scraping ensued. Young men chattered in Spanish. Loudly.
Why, oh why, oh why, me?