One of the other units in our little apartment complex, at some point in the last few months, became the “party place.” You know, drinking and music and groups of idiots shouting at random, that sort of thing. Generally speaking they’ve kept it reasonable; they’re usually not super-loud, and they’re dispersed by 11pm or so. It’s not my favorite thing in the world, but when kept under control I can deal with it on occasion.
Not last night, though.
Full-volume music. Several conversations taking place outside at full volume simultaneously. People wandering out to the street to be noisy gits. And this went on well past 11pm.
And past midnight.
And past 1am.
The party didn’t wind down until two-freaking-thirty in the morning. (And it took another half hour or so for me to calm down enough to be able to sleep. Joy.)
Icing on the cake? Eight-o’clock rolls around and one of them decides to drive somewhere… announcing this fact by blaring their car stereo for a couple of minutes before driving off.
Yeah, they’ve had their exceptional party. I hope they enjoyed it, because if they try it again, cops will be called. Persistently and promptly. After a generally crappy week of work, this was precisely what I did not need. Grrrr.