Monday, October 12, 2009

"Without enough sleep, we all become tall two-year-olds." ~JoJo Jensen, Dirt Farmer Wisdom, 2002

And, today I am about 2-1/2 years old.

Really, I'm pissed. You've all heard the story about Little Bitch across the street.


I started this blog Saturday morning, but I was too tired to continue.

Let me back up a bit by saying that I have been sick since last Thursday. I spent the better part of Thursday in bed with a slight fever, stomach issues (no need to be graphic) and sleeping intermittently. I am still not feeling well this morning and I don't think I feel strong enough to go to my Strong Women class.

I slept fairly well Thursday night, even though I had slept most of the day and Friday I felt a little better.

Friday night it had stopped raining and we decided to open our bedroom windows slightly because the weather has cooled off nicely. Tom and I love to sleep with an open window. We always have. Even when we lived at Lake Tahoe and it was snowing, we'd always have our bedroom window open just a little to enjoy the fresh, cold air. In doing so, we've never had an issue with noise until we moved to this house.

I know have blogged about the noise issue before, but I think I did so when I first started blogging on Myspace before I started this blog. I'll try to make a long story short.

The people who live directly across the street from us are a couple with a son and a daughter. The parents were both teachers (The Dad has since retired) at the local high school. When we moved into this house, The Son had already moved away from home and The Daughter was a senior in high school. About 8 months after we moved in, The Daughter graduated from high school. That's when the issues started.

Party, party, party...nearly every single night. Cars parked up and down the street, loud radios, drinking, revving engines, trips to the liquor store (and this is a dry county, so they have to DRIVE about 18 miles to the next county to buy their booze). Yes, the graduate is underage, as were all of her friends. And, yes, the parents were home...except we learned that it was The Mom who was always home (and drinking with them) while The Dad was off somewhere hunting or fishing or both. So, every time The Dad left for one of his little trips, which was often that first summer, we could expect a party. And, several times after midnight we would call the police.

That first summer was just pure hell, even with our windows closed, until finally in late July Tom decided to have a talk with the Shift Commander at the Police Department. He visited the Police Dept. at the beginning of the night shift, sat down with the Lieutenant and laid out the continuing problem.
  • Parties every single weekend, generally Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, but often, too, during the week because it was their summer break.
  • Noise (music, cars, revving engines, drunken behavior) until at least 2:00 am, often until 3:00 am.
  • Beer cans all over the street the next morning (although at one point, The Mom did take the initiative to put a garbage can out near the curb so the kids would have a more "appropriate" place to throw their beer cans). 
  • The Mom is home with them, drinking with them, making excuses for them ("they just want to have fun because they just graduated!").
  • Kids drive...DRIVE A VEHICLE... to the party having already been drinking and kids leave the party having been drinking.
Finally, the Lieutenant agreed that the next time there was a party, there was reason enough to believe the  kids would be drinking and would be tested, as would The Mom, and when the results were positive, she would also be arrested AND the school board would receive the arrest information.

Tom saw The Dad two days later and had a talk with him, explaining his visit to the Police Department and letting The Dad know the consequences of any further parties. It's been pretty much a party-free zone since then. The Daughter (affectionately known in our house as Little Bitch) moved out of the house that August to attend college, but came back shortly thereafter when she couldn't hack it (surprise, surprise). Then The Daughter moved out again, but comes back periodically to spend the weekend or whatever and those are the times when we can expect (when The Dad has gone somewhere) her coming and going at all hours of the weekend.

The Daughter came back to visit last weekend, The Dad left Friday morning, so we had an issue Friday night. The Daughter gets in her car, starts it up and the music starts blaring immediately. She leaves and, after a short time, comes back, music blaring, pulls into the driveway, turns off the car (and, thankfully, the music), but simply must click her remote at least twice, if not three times, to lock her car, so we are subjected to "BEEP," "BEEP," "BEEP." And, perhaps, she has brought a friend home with her and they can talk loudly and giggle during the entire exit from her car until they finally reach the back door and go inside. Then there is finally quiet again. At 3:20 am, after 5 times going and 5 times coming back, I got up and closed the window.

Saturday morning I was exhausted, in tears, hating everyone and everything, especially where I live and feeling just as sick as I did Thursday.

Look, I know it's because I lived in the country for so long where all we ever heard during the night were crickets, frogs, coyotes, owls and an occasional bobcat. Before that, we lived on an acre of land surrounded by other acreage in Vista, California. We never had to deal with beeping cars, parties, loud music. We always had quiet neighbors or lived in quiet neighborhoods. Moving to this house has been the biggest adjustment I've ever made. Honestly, it's an even bigger adjustment than moving from California to Arkansas.

I was still tired and sick yesterday, so Tom went to church by himself. Though today I am feeling a little better, I think I will rest one more day before attempting to tackle the week.



1 comment:

altadenahiker said...

Ha! Last week I blogged about my neighbors. At least it helps to vent. Well, it helps a little.