I'm furious. Mostly because it's too late now to even go back to sleep. I realize that this won't buy me much sympathy from my insomniac sister who is up this time each day for no good reason.
The other bulk of my anger is due to the fact that my small children are trying to sleep & that that fact plays no hindrance on the partying next door.
Six years ago when Jeff & I were househunting, there were a lot of places we could've bought. Well, there weren't that many, but a few choices.
We chose this subdivision to build in.
A subdivision...
LOTS & LOTS of negatives - no privacy, everyone can see your comings & goings. Not a lot of originality or expression -- homes look pretty much alike. Etc., etc.
BUT, those negatives are outweighed (we thought) by the protection & rules provided by organized neighborhood association.
WRONG-O.At 3 a.m. Jeff had had enough. He got up, went into the livingroom, looked out the bay window & called the cops. There were about 10 or so cars lining our cul-de-sac, 2 in front of our yard. Music was blaring from the next door neighbor's home. Flynn cried out, not completely awake, but her REM disturbed by the ruckus. He reports the noise. Hangs up. More noise, no cops. 10 minutes later, no cops. People (looking to be early 20s) are leaving this house, armfuls of six packs, getting into cars, & driving away...loudly. A kid cuts across the corner of our lawn, on his drunken route to his piece of crap (& loud) car, obviously intoxicated, singing rap lyrics as loud as his pubescent voice can carry. The proverbial straw was him dropping the "N" word (nothing could make me madder) as he somehow (in a slurred state) was able to remember these song lyrics word for word.
I picked up the phone, told the dispatcher that my husband had called 10 mins prior & that these kids were getting into cars, drunk, driving away. I told him how a truck was about to leave as we were speaking... the driver stood there in the subdivision street, pealing paper off of something (beer bottle, pack of cigarettes?), just dropping it in the road, as if HE'D paid subdivision fees for the roads to be regularly plowed & cleaned. The dispatcher asked for a description of the truck. Like what does that matter? -- whenever the officer didn't show up for another 10 minutes...the truck was LONG gone, with about 4 other kids inside.
When the po po did finally arrive (sorry to Cousin Sarah if you're reading this & feel I'm being derrogative to officers like your dear husband), he knocked on their door, muttered something, then about five more cars left.
But you know who didn't leave? This obnoxious yellow neon, with a retarded spoiler on the back. Who obviously belongs to the boyfriend of the daughter (one of the renters) of the man who owns the home. Who just now, went to his car in a huff. Started it (has one of those REALLY LOUD MOTORS). And then had her follow, upset that he was leaving. She stands at the passenger window (the side closest to my children's windows) & yells for him to open the door. He doesn't. So she yells again, "Open the effing door!" Okay, my blood is starting to boil at this point. Then she starts to knock on the window so hard I'm sure that either its cheap windows are going to crack, or her knuckles will bleed. She yells for him to come inside. His response to her was to REV HIS MOTOR so loud & hard that I'm quite sure his car is broken.
That's when I had reach my breaking point. You know, the point where you excuse yourself from any responsibility of any irrational thing you say or do for the next few minutes.
I ran into the room & grabbed my Old Navy DISCO MAMA GROOVE KITTY pj pants (bcuz I'm tough like that), decided to skip a bra & jacket & was headed for the door. That's when my
rational husband, who God purposely paired up with a UNlevelly headed wife, literally hopped into his pj pants & stopped me. "I'll go honey."
It was probably best, he was calm & walked up to the previously mentioned matchbox car & stood there until the punk opened his window. Jeff just said, "COULD YOU PLEASE KEEP. IT. DOWN.??" The boy dropped his head & muttered sorry. He turned off his motor right away & sat in his car for a few minutes, then retreated back into his bloody-knuckled girlfriend's parent's house.
I haven't heard a peep from the house since.
BUT because I get really upset about things, then don't get calmed down (see my high blood pressure problem), I couldn't go back to sleep. Plus -- like right now it's 5:20 -- what good would it do for me to go back to sleep now? To sleep ONE hour?
I'm furious at these kids. Sure, I was a kid once. Went to parties. Stayed up all night. Was silly. TP'ed a few houses. But, why should MY FAMILY's rest (& safety if you ask me), be affected because these kids can afford to rent a home next to mine?
Oh, by the way, we're not just talking about tonight. I forgot to mention that there has been AT LEAST ONE PARTY PER WEEKEND for the LAST 4 MONTHS. Most of the parties, I don't hear unless I'm up with the kids. Or there are lots of car doors slamming.
But this was probably the third time I've called the cops. And probably the 6th time we've lost sleep.
And it's usually a Sat nite. Not a big deal to some but Sundays are my 'big' work day. I get my family up early & we're out the door by 8:15ish to get to church before 9. THAT's my work. To be nice to people & smile & be supportive to volunteers & greet new guests at church & sometimes talk from the stage & try to remember names & teach kids & be ON THE BALL.
My first instinct was that at about 7 a.m., I would move my mini van in front of their driveway & lay on the horn. But I don't want to punish my other neighbors. Plus, that's just vengeance & altho feels good temporarily, will gain us nothing.
My second thought is to go over there one day this week & talk to them. NOT ABOUT THEIR PARTYING but to ask for the dad's phone number (who is still very vested as he was there a month ago putting up Christmas lights). I think he'd be quite interested to know what's going on...and if nothing else I could bring him up to speed on his known responsibilities for his property & the [another less used word for responsibilities] that brings.
I'm sure these girls know now that we're pretty ticked & might not be willing to cough up a phone number. So there will have to be some grand idea I'll have to think of before that.
For now, I'm fuming mad. My Irish-red cheeks are aglow & there's only one thing to do at a time like this...
laundry.