The other day I was planning on working out in the yard, but knew I had to change from my “good” workout pants to my outdoor gardening pants. So I ran upstairs to my room to ditch the good workout pants, knowing my other pants were downstairs.
I ran back downstairs, grabbed a piece of gum, laced up my dirty shoes and walked out my back door—without pants. While I openly admit to forgetting certain beauty tricks, I think forgetting pants is a first for me, at least accidentally.
At any rate, I’m going to blame this temporary lapse in clothing as a direct result of an interruption in my sleep as of late due to external noise disruptions.
Because along with it now being “Camping Season”, it is also apparently “let’s make tons of ridiculous noise late at night season” as well.
Let me preface this by saying that I love sleeping—especially sleeping in the summer with the windows open. What I don’t love is when I get into bed only to be jolted five minutes later by a sonic boom.
Considering my suburban neighborhood is not under attack from anything other than those damn white fuzzies from the trees, this means people are lighting off fireworks.
In June (and July, August and September.)
At 2 am.
I’ve written about this before, so I will save you an additional rant and simply refer you to the post in which I opine with the explosiveness of 1,000 M80s being lit by groups of amateur pyromaniacs.
Let’s move on.
The pyromaniacs usually only surface on the weekends, so I can deal with it a little better. But what I have a harder time dealing with is the fact that the neighbor kids have recently started to play basketball at midnight.
On the weeknights.
Their hoop is on a parallel line from my bedroom window, so I hear every dribble, every argument, every “if you miss this shot you have to eat that dead thing we found in the garage” clear as day.
And no, I’m not making that part up.
Again, I can tolerate the noise on the weekends and during the day. But during the week when I get up at 5am, manic ball dribbling and plans for worm consumption keeping me awake are no bueno, mi amigos.
I’ve shut my window at times to try and muffle the noise, but that doesn’t always work.
I’ve considered going over and talking to them, but I’m too lazy to get out of my bed at midnight to catch them in the act (and apparently they’re now nocturnal, as I haven’t seen them during the day as of late.)
I’ve even thought about taking up a collection to send them to a summer-long camp — not because they’re poor, but because I fear I might become the crazy neighbor that takes their basketball and deflates the bastard, leaving it on their driveway with a warning ransom note.
But instead I’ve decided that if this crap doesn’t stop, I will make a conscious effort to intentionally forget my pants the next time that I garden and streak across their lawn at midnight in the middle of their game waving sparklers and laughing maniacally.
If that doesn’t traumatize them into submission, I’m pretty sure nothing else will.
Wish me luck.
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