I am completely and utterly wiped out right now.
Last night, the noisy house in my neighborhood (there’s always one) decided it just had to have a party. In the middle of the street.
The house in question is sort of catty-corners behind mine, on a little side-street off my street. Said side-street being a dead-end, so they didn’t need to worry about traffic.
The party started about 8:30 or so. I retreated into the bathroom, which is oddly enough the only room in the house that has any chance of keeping the noise out, despite being on the back of the house and therefore closer to the source. I could still hear it even in there, so I had to turn on the space heater, switching it back and forth between heat and fan as it got too hot or too cold in there.
Every so often, I turned the space heater back off to see if they had shut up yet. About midnight, I left the bathroom long enough to give the cats their bedtime feed, then went back into the bathroom…
…until they turned up their music at about 12:30, making it so loud even the space heater couldn’t cover it up.
I decided “screw this!” and left the house.
After contemplating calling my brother and asking if I could crash on his couch, I decided it was best not to risk waking him, and instead went to an all night restaurant nearby. I had an ice cream sundae (which I really shouldn’t have, and I felt sick by the time I got home) and a soda so I wouldn’t fall asleep on the drive home.
It was 2:00 by the time I got home, and though the party was still going, at least it had settled down and so I was able to sink gratefully into bed.
Then they turned the music back up an hour later.
I had to retreat back into the bathroom, where I stayed for another hour. (Though they might have turned off their music sooner than that; I didn’t check.)
Admittedly, I got some of my reading for today done early (though not all that much, because I was so tired that I wasn’t really taking it in) but not getting to bed until 4:00?
If it had been my choice, it wouldn’t bother me. Not at all. This past January, when I had just gotten an inspiration for my semi-Young Adult novels, I sat down one night at 11:30 to start writing, and didn’t turn off the computer until 2:30 the next afternoon. I didn’t even feel tired, because I was so jazzed by what I was working on. (I didn’t even realize it had grown so late until I realized there was light coming in through the window.) But that had been my own impetus. And it hadn’t made any noise to keep anyone else up.
What I don’t get is why no one else seemed bothered by that party.
They were holding it in the middle of the street, so obviously they must have done something to get permission from the police, or they would have been shut down. Especially since the city hall/police station is just about a mile down the street. There’s no way that no police cars drove past that incredibly noisy party over such a long period of time.
But why didn’t anyone else complain about the noise?
I just don’t get it.
I also don’t get why anyone would be so rude as to make that much noise in a residential area to begin with. If they wanted to party, why didn’t they just go out to a club or something? (Especially considering it got down to about 44 degrees last night. I was freezing on the way back last night, because I only had my denim jacket with me.)
The really weird part, though, is that when I told my brother about all this, and how I had contemplated going to crash at his place, he said it wouldn’t have helped any, because his upstairs neighbors were having a party, too. I just don’t get it.
And I really want to go to bed. But I can’t until it’s a little closer to the cats’ usual bedtime…