For the past few months, we have been working on re-siding the house, choosing to clad in in vinyl by ourselves, with occasional help here and there.
And by 'ourselves,' I mean G is doing 99% of the work. I just hold stuff.
Because both he and I are employed full-time, and even if I wasn't I would have precious little idea how to put the stuff up if it came to tricky bits (but I'm learning, ever so slowly), it mean that the work is done on nights and weekends. You know, about the same time as the lawn mower/blower brigade strikes up the band.
One little thing G likes to do when doing outside work is set up the music system to play some tunes while he's banging nails and trimming siding. The music is not on a boombox, but rather on part of his band's PA system, which CAN put out a mighty voice when called upon, but doesn't in the neighborhood because, well, folks don't always WANT to Andreas Van Vollenweider while they're doing their leaf blowing.
OK, nor might they want to hear 21 Pilots, Gunship, OKGo, worship music, Arthur Lyman, the Sugarcubes, Steve Taylor, Gorrillaz, or anything else he might have on the bulging iPad of musical chairs.
Bottom line, we try to keep the music at a sane level (G's definition, it's HIS job site), and pointed at the work, not the neighbors.
Saturday he worked all day on the house. It HAS TO BE DONE, y'all. Cold is coming on. After 3+ months of work (most of it prep work, putting up actual siding is the icing), he's working when there's light, if it's after 9 a.m. Rock stars need their rest.
Segue to last night - a phone call.
He's out on the deck grilling chicken, so I don't hear any of the conversation. What I do get is the rundown after, which goes something like this:
Neighbor lady: Do you hear that music?
G: No, no I don't.
Neighbor: Well it sounds a lot like the music you were blasting all day Saturday when I was trying to sleep because I need to sleep during the day because I'm taking care of CATS all night long and that's when I sleep!
G: Well, please call me next time if it's bothering you.
Neighbor: What was that you were playing, RAP?
G: It was all kinds of stuff.
Neighbor: Well you know I'm sick and the daytime is the only time I can sleep because I have all these CATS to take care of at nighttime so the daytime is the only time I can sleep.
G: OK, thanks for letting me know.
Neighbor: you KNOW I have all these CATS to take care of.
G: OK, thanks for letting me know.
To which I said something REALLY really uncharitable, like 'hurry up and die already, old lady,' and then felt kind of bad, but then didn't, and for that I am a terrible person and remarkably unChristian in my cheek-turning abilities. BUT LORD HAVE MERCY! You know why she couldn't call G to ask him to turn down the music so she could rest?
"Well I couldn't get out of bed."
If you're THAT tired....
But I won't say it. I won't. I'll think it, and I'll invent a thousand ways one could perish of aural abuse, but I will not SAY it. Whoops! Just added one - so One thousand and ONE ways to assault a certain Fire Marshall Bill-lookin' neighbor with noise, noise, noise, NOISE!!
Sayyyy, I wonder if her landscapers get the same treatment? I don't see THEM mowing between dusk and dawn. Maybe she just stuffs another pack of smokes down her neck and puffs aways the offense, until such time as every last blade of grass is (quietly) picked up and they slink off in their electric truck with the fur-covered tires, leaving her to bask in sepulchural splendor, until the horrible neighbors and their Devil RAP MUSIC start up at 10 a.m.!
Forgive me, Lord, for the vivid imagination you blessed me with sometimes is used for evil and not for good. AND I ENJOY IT.
Until next time,
PS - but really, am I way off base on this one? Feel free to tell me how to curb my irrational rage, because I'm all ears.