The storm clouds are piling high. |
A couple of college guys live in the house south of us. Every so often they have rip, roaring parties, like tonight. Everyone is extremely loud (usually drunk). If the noise dies a bit, a sudden scream or yelling will bring anyone lucky enough to fall asleep jumping from bed in fright. The music is cranked so loud that the windows rattle in our house. At 2:30 AM, Robert rolled out in the rain and told them that they needed to be quiet, or we would call the police every ten minutes until something was done. Finally, the "guests" of the party decided they would go home, wherever that may be. Of course the whole block was awake and seething. I feel sorry for the people who have to go to work after while. While we were in Colorado, a party became so wild that people six houses down called the police, who just drove by without stopping. That night some of the young males (I can't call them men because they don't act like men) used different yards as toilets. After every party, beer cans can be found everywhere. Our "block" is actually three blocks long with no cross streets. The trash lies from one end to the other. Oh, for the peace and quiet of the country. Robert finally passed out on the sofa. I slept for about fifteen minutes, but a final scream, car-door slam, and the squeal of tires at 3:30 ended that. Once I awakened, I wasn't able to go back to sleep. I won't be worth shooting today. |