I am 25 days shy of my 40th birthday. According to some age groupings, I am still a "young adult". Last night, however, I was anything but.
I have to preface this by saying I am noise averse. I hate loud noises. I hate barking dogs. Yelling of any kind gets my Irish up. Of course, Rob points out to me all the time that I turn the TV up way too loud (my prerogative, thank you, now piss off.) and have a tendency to talk loud. Very loud. Whatever, noise sucks. I suppose noise not made by me especially sucks.
So when Dixon started growl-barking at a little before 10 pm last night I told him to zip it. Then he got louder. That's when I noticed he was barking at noise outside. High-pitched screaming. Thinking someone may be getting assaulted, raped, or murdered in front of our house I ran to the door to see what the ruckus was. It's not uncommon for drama to unfold on our "lawn". Dumbasses seem to have a penchant for getting DUIs or having the cops called out for a domestic "incident" and happen to do it in front of our townhouse.
So part of me was excited to see a trashy Cops-like scene unfold in front of me. The other part was annoyed I had to get off my ass to see what was going on. Turns out it was a gaggle of teenage girls squealing, shrieking, and generally being overly-girly in their attempts to wake the neighborhood. Before I knew what I was doing I yelled out: "Hey, guys, could you keep it down out there, please!!" I am that old lady in the neighborhood who yells at children. Twice. Because, of course they didn't quiet right down. I flung the door open again, and one of them yelled "sorry!". And then...they shut up. I must have cultivated my crazy-old-lady look well, because I didn't hear another peep out of them.
So I go out this morning, run some errands, come home and go out to water the garden. I step outside in my over-sized, face-shading, really-old-lady hat (I have really fair skin!) and there are the girls. I swear to god I actually heard them turn their heads to see the mean-old-lady-who-yells-at-children. Then they disappeared inside rather quickly.
So THIS is Karma.When I was 16 I used to spend the night at my BFF's house a lot. She had her own telephone line, to which her parents called down EVERY single time to tell BFF if I didn't quiet down, I could go home. Or how I was just reminded by the grown son of another friend how back in my Navy days I, along with his mother and other friends, would keep him awake with our hootin' and hollerin' when we were drunk. And he was 15.
And right now, my Mom is sitting down stairs kicking Rob and I out of the house for the night. It's 4:30 pm. We are off to the Early Bird Special. I bet we make it home before dark. Or maybe before the street lamps come on...