The latest new addition to the ever-changing cast of Redneck Hillfolk who inhabit Ye Olde Apartment Complex has developed an interesting new hobby: Playing very loud music at 3 in the morning. Now, I don’t know if it’s “real” music like a CD or what-not and I just don’t know the band, or if they’re over there playing Rock Band (badly), or if they’re in an actual band that just sucks. But for the past 2 weekends, it has been like living next door to the Copa Cabana, only nobody’s giving me any fruity drinks.
So Friday night, Chuckweasel comes over after the bar (about 3-AM-ish) and hears the “concert.” And he says to me, “You’re a law dog, can’t we call the cops or something?” And I was like, yeah, we CAN, but I’ve only ever been on the RECEIVING end of the disturbing the peace calls, never the instigator! I kinda think that’s how you can tell you’re getting old!
Turns out, there is a whole chart of Times/Activities with the Weasel — like what activity is okay to do at what time, and so on. I just always stuck to the campground rules that Dear Sweet Mama and her Dear Sweet Parents instilled in me as a child: don’t make noise between 10pm and 10am.
Those rules also work for phone calls — I have been known to tear UP a telemarketer for calling at 9 in the morning.