(Read all the way to the end on this one, or you’ll miss out on some good dirt about the people across the street’s sex lives.)
(I know, I know, ewwwwwwwww.)
You all remember, the neighbor who drives a ridiculously loud Harley Davidson? Well, apparently he goes somewhere at 5am ever day. I’m assuming work, but who knows. Just randomly driving an obnoxiously loud Harley at 5am would seem to be right up his alley.
Do you want to know why I know that he goes somewhere everyday at 5am? Because it wakes me up. Every. Single. Day. It took me a while to figure it out, because I don’t always register the sound of his motorcycle. But, I sure as hell register the fact that it is 5am and I am awake. Also, I register the fact that I am not happy about this. And then, later, I register the fact that I am exhausted. It’s been like this all summer.
It wasn’t until recently that a) He went on vacation and I discovered that I could sleep through the night that week and 2) I heard his motorcycle revving at 5 in the morning. Previously, I just assumed that my internal clock hated me.
Unfortunately, there’s not much that I can do about it. The guy has a right to use his chosen method of transportation. Although I have to say, when he leaves it parked on the sidewalk in front of his house, the temptation to kick it over is quite hard to resist.
Bad Hope. Bad, bad Hope.
I never thought I’d say it, but I can’t wait until the weather gets crappy. Then, he won’t be able to ride anymore.
All of this is just back story, however, to explain just how precarious my state of mind was last night. An entire Summer of interrupted sleep without a cute and cuddly baby to show for it. Also, I worked 10 hours of OT this week. And our hot water heater has finally decided that it doesn’t want to heat hot water anymore. I was exhausted, cranky and unable to relax in a hot bath.
So, here I was, curled up in bed, hoping to (finally) get a good night’s sleep, attempting to relax and finally starting to somewhat succeed.
When I hear it.
The shouting.
The swearing.
The sexual history.
It’s not unusual for our neighbors to scream at each other so loud they can be heard from our bedroom. They’re such busybodies, I figure it’s their way of achieving some sort of reciprocity. They’re always poking around in our business, so they share a little. What was unusual was that they were screaming at each other at eleven o’clock at night.
Also, they don’t usually scream about blow jobs.
Oh yes, you heard me right. My neighbors broke up last night and it was most definitely about blow jobs. He got a blow job from Sally So-and-So. She gave a blow job to Joe So-and-So. Apparently if you want some oral pleasure, you should hang out in their backyard. Because, to hear them yell about it, you couldn’t get more action on their back porch if you were Bill Clinton and you’d just bought Fidel Castro’s private stash of Cuban Cigars.
Kristian wanted to pop some popcorn, pour himself a beer and then settle outside on a lawn chair to watch the show. I settled for tweeting about it and then scrounging around for some ear plugs. We thought that they had finally shut up when she drove off in a huff, but she came back about 15-20 minutes later. And he wouldn’t let her in the house to get her stuff. Which just led to more shouting. And her threatening to call the cops.
I was sorely tempted to yell out the window, “If you don’t call the cops, I will.”
They reached some sort of agreement or they killed each other. I wasn’t sure which one. I just know that the yelling stopped.
(I kid! I kid!)
(I saw her this afternoon! Totally not dead!)
(She was not giving anyone a BJ!)
(If I really had been scared for their safety, I would have called the cops!)
(Any excuse to make law enforcement tell them to STFU!)
I finally fell asleep some time after midnight. A long time after midnight. And then I woke up at 5am. Because I am doomed to never, ever get a good night’s sleep again.
And that, my friends, is why I will be going to bed at about 8:30pm tonight. Also, why I hate our neighbors. At least, these particular neighbors.
The End.
Unfortunately, there’s not much that I can do about it. The guy has a right to use his chosen method of transportation. Although I have to say, when he leaves it parked on the sidewalk in front of his house, the temptation to kick it over is quite hard to resist.
Check with city hall. Your town may have noise ordinances restricting loud noises during certain hours. When we moved into our house, we had a problem with a construction company across the street idling trucks outside our window a 6am. One call to the city fixed that right up.
Man, your BJ neighbors, combined with my sex having in plain view neighbors, would make for an excellent blog.
Oh, vomitous. I actually would have shouted that… definitely.
Kristina, that would either be the world’s awesomest blog or the world’s grossest. Possibly both at the same time. :p
I kindof regret not shouting *something.*
re: Loud bike. David could be right. Your city may have bylaws to take care of this sort of thing.
re: Loud neighbours. We have a finished basement with a bedroom; you wouldn’t believe how many nights we spend blissfully slumbering while the neighbours talk, party, occasionally swear, etc. I wish you a peaceful weekend.
Wow – that is so scandalous, better than watching a soap.
When we first bought the house, none of the outward facing walls was insulated. We’re slowly but surely working on it. Although, I suspect that our bedroom has too many windows to ever block the neighbors out properly.
There’s nothing worse than bad, noisy neighbours. I’ve had them too. Oh no, wait . . . I’ve had FLATMATES like that. I can definitely feel your pain.
[…] This past year, I have been a bad sleeper. Such a bad sleeper, I make colicky babies look like Rip Van Winkle. I sleep with an eye-mask, a la Holly Golightly. I keep earplugs on my nightstand “just in case.” I avoid caffeine in all of its forms. I exercise religiously. I try to never exercise within two hours of when I plan to go to bed. I have attempted (unsuccessfully) to subliminally convince our neighbor to get rid of his motorcycle. […]
[…] Tired of These Mother$%@%! Neighbors in my Mother$%@%! Parking Spot So, do you remember our neighbors who like to shout about blow jobs at 11 o’clock at night? Well, they’re back. With a […]
I’m so sorry. Our facility’s caregivers live on property. All summerl long the male sea lion barksbarksbarksbarksbarks. When I had an overnight shift I could hear him from the far side of the property. The caregiver’s apartment is much closer. I asked her how she sleeps. She said she has a white noise machine. Can you try that or some other noise-cancelling measures or won’t you hear LJ?