When did I become "The Annoying Old Lady Next Door"?

by Patti


My wonderful neighbors left Sunday morning for their yearly trip to Jamaica. Although I am sure they look forward to this vacation with glee every single year, I kind of dread it. Why? Because they have three grown-ish sons that still live at home, and every time they leave, those boys are possessed by the Spirit of the Parentless. Now, Before I get all complain-y, I do have to say that these guys are good guys - they all have jobs or go to school, or both, and they are, for the most part, polite and helpful and cool. But they are guys, and they are all in the early 20's, and they do live life like they are in their early 20's, and when their parents are gone, the parties, oh God the parties, they never end.

And this is when I become Mrs. Kravitz.

If you don't know who Mrs. Kravitz is, then I'm even older than I care to realize, and this makes me feel even more Mrs. Kravitz-like than I originally felt. But there is just no better way to describe what becomes of me when the neighbors' kids are left to their own devices.

It's just that suddenly, I am no longer in a peaceful, pleasant little suburb of Chicago; instead, I am living right next door to Kappa Freaking Sigma, and, along with the bean bags tossed during a drunken game of "bags",  I can hear the beer cans being tossed haphazardly  into the night over and over again, their landings creating a symphony of aluminium hell. "Leave them alone", M warns me when he sees the sour expression on my face. "They're just having fun." The fun? I don't mind. But when it's 2 am and I have to get up at 7 am, and I have been hearing "DUDE!" belched out for the past 4 hours, well, I'm kind of OVER IT.

Last year, when my neighbors took off on their trip, I endured these antics night after night, and finally, one of these nights, I snapped. I bolted out of my bed in a pissed-off frenzy, flung open the sliding glass door to my deck, and shouted out, "I DON'T MEAN TO BE A BITCH, BUT CAN YOU GUYS SHUT UP?" Look at me, being all pissed off and polite at the same time. Their carefree laughter was immediately silenced, and as I slammed the sliding door shut, I heard them giggling. I knew that giggle; it was the same one I giggled when I was young and fun and didn't have to get up early to get a kid to school and get my ass to work, and some clearly old, bitter, boring person told ME to shut up. And now? Here I was, that clearly old, bitter, boring person  - that Mrs. Kravitz - ruining somebody else's fun. Really, there is no faster rocket to feeling old than to break up a party.

After my snap last year, I had to confront one of the boys the next day. He was taking out the garbage bags full of empty cans, and when he saw me, he bowed his head sheepishly and apologized for being rude. Of course, this made me feel like crap - and older than EVER - and I kind of apologized back for being so, well, old, and he promised to dial it back while I internally promised to not be such an anal pain in the ass.

This year, within hours of my neighbor's departure, one of the boys was hosting an afternoon barbeque on the back deck - a Kickoff to Freedom, of sorts. It started off innocently enough but, as the hours disappeared, it got progressively louder and louder until I pretty much had to shut my sliding glass door, which, I have to admit, annoyed me unto no end since we have we had freakishly warm weather and I have been living with the doors and windows open. But I had to choose: Breeze and "DUDE!"? Or Ceiling fans and silence? Choices, choices... I chose ceiling fans and silence. AND NOT HAPPILY. I once again felt my inner Mrs. Kravitz emerging, and I got a little panicky, knowing a whole week of possible parties to break up lay before me, and that there was no M at home to temper my Old Bitch temper. I was pretty much free to freak out as often and carelessly as possible. This was not good.

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! NO FUN ALLOWED!

At that moment, I made a promise to myself to try to chill out. I promised to remind myself that this was but one mere week in my life; that, really, what harm was there in letting these DUDES! have a little fun. Wasn't I them once?  Wasn't I young and free and filled with the wild promise of "anything is possible"? Yes, I was.

And when I'm not too busy Mrs. Kravitz-ing away other people's fun, I'm still one of them. Yes, older, more weighed down, a little more jaded, but still open to that wild promise that anything is possible.