It was a glorious reunion yesterday when Kenny returned from a quick trip to his dad’s. He came bearing gifts: a memory foam pillow (aka heaven for a wife with arthritis in her neck) and reunited me with our beloved macbook pro (which is holding all our recent photos, hence the lack of blogging).
Needless to say, after a long day in the car Kenny was looking forward to a good night’s rest. I was, too. However, our new, evil property managers have decided to make a simple thing like sleeping a difficult thing to do in these parts as they’ve begun renting to college students. Suddenly our quiet little row of duplexes has turned into Melrose Place with young coeds running in and out at all hours of the night – usually slightly inebriated. Awesome.
I was slightly irritated when last night’s party was still going on at 11:30pm, but was willing to deal with it a little longer. After all, I’m not that old and I understand that their Memorial Day weekend had probably already begun. However, when several (slightly tipsy) young “ladies” decided to step outside and make phone calls RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW at 2:00am...well, my patience began to wane a little. Poor husband put up with my whispered venting. “Those inconsiderate whores! Who do they think they are?! Are they so self-centered that they haven’t even thought about they fact that some people have to get up early for work?! And their music taste sucks." Etc. etc. I have a good man – and a patient one at that. Anyway, I was just drifting off to sleep – with my beloved new pillow pressed firmly around my ears. I briefly marveled at how effectively all that NASA-engineered goodness could mold into my ear canals and muffle the racket going on outside. It was at this point (3:00am), the guys decided to join the girls outside. Apparently being that drunk that late at night means you have to YELL to communicate. Also, everyone seemingly has to talk at the same time, getting progressively louder to be heard. I’d had it and was ready to go out there and drop my own personal brand of Hell on that unsuspecting group of coeds, when sweet, patient Kenny got his tired self out of bed and politely sent them inside.
As I lay there fuming, I felt suddenly old. And, frankly, that pissed me off even more. How dare they make be feel old on top of waking me up! I’m not old!
So to prove it, I doorbell ditched those girls bright and early on my way to work this morning.
That'll show 'em.
Happy Friday and have a Great Memorial Day Weekend!