We have new-ish neighbors next door.
I hate them.
Before they even moved in, they had an enormous, beautiful old tree cut down. Didn’t they know they had to consult me on that beforehand? Jerks.
After they moved in, I had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with their special hobbies (and mind you — we are a musician household, so if I am complaining, you know it must be bad!). Here are a few of them:
1. They love to wake their children up at the butt crack of dawn on weekends, to send them outside to play/scream/murder each other beneath my bedroom window.
2. The man of the house LOVES to roll their garbage dumpster about, up and down their gravel driveway, repeatedly. The earlier in the morning or the later at night, the better. All right outside my bedroom window again.
3. Their favorite family time activity is to get everybody together for a car door slamming season. The earlier in the morning, the more family bonding can occur. Again, right by the bedroom window.
I know they are just proud of their talents and the time it’s taken them to get really, really good at their hobbies. I also know that they are desperate to include me, because who could resist wanting to involve someone as clearly awesome as me in their dumpster rolling, car door slamming, obnoxious kid screaming?
Still. Get a grip, people. You couldn’t handle my awesomeness involved in your hobbies.