More Neighbor Drama (Or Why I'm so Tired)

Dear Cat Lady,
I understand that this letter should really be addressed to your grown daughter and son, both of whom seem to be living with you, and your grandson, whom I KNOW lives with you.

I suppose y'all had no way of knowing that we had our first meeting with the adoption agency yesterday and subsequently got no sleep Wednesday night. My bad.

As Sloan and I settled in with our books (me, Doris Betts, and Sloan, the last of the Twilight series) around 10 pm last night, we were startled to hear the thunderous bass of a car stereo. "Hmmm, the grandson must be getting home from celebrating the end of the college semester," I said, foolishly thinking that the noise would end when he turned off his car.

He didn't turn off his car. So when, at 11, the melodic guitar riffs of Smoke on The Water were disrupting my ability to fall asleep and made Henry begin to stir, I did what any reasonable wife would do. I turned to my husband and said, "Do you want me to go out in the rain and say something or are you going to?"

Three times Sloan went out in the rain, armed with an umbrella and flashlight. Once at 11, again at 11:30, and finally around 12:15. Apparently, the first two times of him waving the flashlight around and yelling from our side of their driveway (he was determined not to actually leave our yard), didn't work. And by this time, it was both the grandson's car booming bass and the daughter's SUV. Sloan flashed the light around and finally, the 50ish tatooed son stumbled out of his nephew's car, amidst a cloud of smoke.

"What do you need?" he said.

"I have a two year old son trying to sleep who is going to be awake again around 6:30 tomorrow. And some of us have to go to work in the morning. Could you keep it down?"

"You can really hear our music inside your house?"

"Yes. Even on the second floor."

"Oh."

Thankfully, they turned down their music and I was able to get back to sleep as we were determined to call the cops had they not responded.

Dearest, dearest cat lady, I may or may not actually send this letter. But I am considering paying you a visit to ask you to keep tabs on your offspring. Or at least tell me where you purchased your earplugs that you must've worn to bed last night. (I've even baked a loaf of banana bread to bring with me so I can visit under the guise of being neighborly.)

I'm not stupid. There are only two reasons I can think of to sit in a parked car with the music turned up--to get handsy or to get high. And since the parties in the car were related, I'm really hoping for the latter. But you see, this is a nice FAMILY neighborhood. We have sidewalks for strolling and two playgrounds within walking distance. Could you at least take the party inside? To the garage at least? If you were going for inconspicuous, blaring the stereo in two parked cars in your driveway was not the way to go. I'm just saying.

But who knows? Maybe the family that smokes a fatty together stays together.

Yours truly,
Your tired neighbor

P.S. In case you were wondering, the meeting with the adoption agency went well.