The morning after

We haven’t heard back from the moving coordinator. I’ve little doubt that she’s madly calling different moving companies and trying to keep from having to eat her words when she said she could do anything.

After I threw a royal hissy fit and told those kids to get the hell out of my sight, the party calmed down significantly. By midnight, there were only ten cars out on the street. (The street was lined with cars for over a block earlier in the evening, including two cars that were parked across the end of my driveway.)

When I think about it, I’m pretty sure that those people were drinking last night. (Ya think?) They were likely panicked because if the cops came in and found underage kids with alcohol, they’d be in deep trouble.

I was thinking about it last night as I was trying to go to sleep. I don’t think I’ve ever been as angry with neighbors as I was with those people last night. Even the neighbors on the other side a few years back who mercifully moved weren’t that bad. (They had 4 kids, including one boy about Ellie’s age. The kids frequently went out at midnight after their parents left for bar-hopping to play basketball. One night, they had a bunch of friends over. About 1 AM, the parents came in and their guests scrambled and hid in our bushes. Needless to say, Ellie never played with those kids.)

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