My neighbors are driving me nuts. I've tried to be proactive about things. I talked with them. I banged on the wall. I talked with the landlord. And after all of that, I even called the cops. The thing is, I hate being a snitch, but ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.
Nothing has helped. They, two college boys who really need to get girlfriends, play video games at least 12 hours a day. I can somewhat handle the Guitar Hero since I have a secret adoration for hair bands, but the war video games must stop.
I am trying to work on a manuscript here and every three minutes the entire complex shakes and I'm ready to hit the floor. Those calm days of gazing outside to see the charming little creek/sewer are over. Instead of peering out my window to admire baby ducks I am expecting to see a chopper. Instead of comfy pug printed PJ's, I'm sporting camouflage.
And so the war begins.
I have stooped to their level and it feels good. This morning, while they were still asleep from their Friday night Halo 3 marathon, I rediscovered my love for Chicago drum-n-bass DJ Danny the Wildchild.
Tomorrow when I wake up at 7 am or so, I just may pull out the Irish tin whistle CD. And, I may just get my tin whistle out and play along.
You just don't mess with someone trying to finish an MFA.