Yesterday, just after I put Simon down for his afternoon snooze, I felt my windows shaking. I thought maybe there was a garbage truck going past. But after a few minutes, I got curious and looked outside to find two, count them two, cars parked next door, with tunes blaring and bass rattling. And there were about 6 tatooed adolescents standing on the lawn, smoking cigarettes, milling from one shitty car to the next.
I spent about 10 minutes debating if I should run outside and yell at them, “Can we take the ghetto party somewhere else? Because I have a baby sleeping inside!”
I decided against it, but I don’t know how much more I can take.