Our upstairs neighbors are having a party tonight. They were really polite about it. They even invited us to come. But then they asked to borrow our coolers, so I’m fairly certain the invite was just a technicality. But I digress.
The problem is not the party. And its not our neighbors. Its that its a Monday. And at the risk of sounding like an old fart, they’re being loud. And its a Monday.
The real, underlying problem here is that I’m ready to move. I’m ready for a driveway where we don’t have to strategically park our cars so we don’t block anyone. I’m ready for a mailbox instead of a box nailed to our front porch. I’m ready for neighbors who have kids with bedtimes. I’m ready for a laundry room that doesn’t require swatting down spider webs before starting the spin cycle. I’m ready for fresh paint on the walls, furniture that matches, and a spare bedroom that doesn’t also function as a home office and storage room.
I can tell Chris is ready for all this, too, because he gets this little glow on his face when we talk about things like cedar fencing and wardrobe boxes, which I’m pretty confident have never turned him on before. Poor kid. All he wants in life is a little backyard, a little couch, and a big beer fridge. And he is so close to getting it all.
We just have to live through this party upstairs tonight, and I’m sure we will because God knows we’ve thrown our share of parties here that those poor neighbors upstairs have had to endure. But at 2:00 AM tonight when the party is still roaring up there and we are trying to sleep down here, I’ll think sweet thoughts of lawn mowers and window treatments and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get some sleep afterall.