Sometimes There ARE People I Want to Punch in the Throat.....

I hope the author of the blog I referenced yesterday hasn't registered her title as a trademark, because I'm going to use it today. Maybe other days too, but definitely today.

The people I want to punch in the throat today are our new next-door neighbors. And/or their visitors.

Perhaps I shouldn't use the word "neighbor" so loosely. Doesn't the word itself carry connotations of pleasantness, as in "being neighborly," referring to a state of being useful, friendly, congenial, or at least tolerable?

There are certainly positive things about where we live. Hubby has lived in this house since the subdivision was built in 1973. Our neighbors directly across the street have also lived here that long. A couple of the houses have changed hands a couple of times; the house that is built on the same floor plan as ours and sits catty-cornered to ours has had the same folks in it since before I moved in, so at least 15 years. We live on a dead-end street (apparently the cul de sac concept didn't come around until after 1973) off another dead-end street, so it's fairly quiet. Our little street only has six houses on it, with us smack in the middle on the right-hand side.

Two of the houses have become rental properties, and we've been mostly lucky with the one that is right next to ours. There was that one year when the tenants were evicted right before Christmas. Even the Christmas tree was out in the yard, decorations still on it and everything. Then there was the freaky guy Ken, who bragged to Hubby one day that he was on his 48th beer. And he came over during a family gathering at the pool one time, bringing his girlfriend-of-the-week and his cooler with him.

There was a sweet couple from New York, a first year teacher and her boyfriend, who mostly walked around the yard talking on his cell phone. They managed to buy a place of their own right after the economy tanked. The most recent tenant was a lady who works for the school system and her two children.

The owner of the house is a VERY nice man. I don't think he ever lived in the house himself. He bought it to rent it out for the income. Hubby knows him, and I've exchanged greetings with him, but I'm not sure I would know him if I saw him on the street. That has very little to do with this blog post.

The newest next-door neighbors -- oops, there I go again -- I mean, the newest next-door people who live next door have only lived here a couple of weeks. They spend most of their time outside working on their cars, but not in a junkyard kind of way. Yet.

My complaint about them, though, the thing that makes me want to punch them in the throat, and actually drove me outside in the rain to stand on my porch and glare at them, is the fact that they accompany their mechanical endeavors with very, very, very loud music.

I'm not condemning these people just because they listen to the kind of music I hope won't be my punishment in hell. At least that's not entirely the reason I'm condemning them. It's the volume.

I'm sure these people (and others with the same tendencies) would say it's their right to listen to whatever music they want to, and to listen to it as loudly as they want to. I would say to them that their rights end where mine begin. I also have a right to sit in my home on a rainy Tuesday afternoon and read, crochet, nap, play video games, watch gymnastics replays (it's research, people, research), or twiddle my thumbs WITHOUT MY WINDOWS VIBRATING. Yes, the windows in our house were vibrating in tempo with the horrible noise emanating from the speakers of the car at the house next door. Sounds kind of like Dr. Seuss, but he never had to punch anyone in the throat.

I realize the rational thing to do would be to calmly walk next door and request that these rude people turn the music down. It's my belief, however, that anyone inconsiderate enough to play music that loud in the first place wouldn't be open to requests to change their behavior. Besides, they look mean.

We could also resort to calling the po-po about the music (and I once stooped that low at about 2:00 AM one morning, but that was several tenants ago and I don't think Hubby liked it when I did that), but that has the potential to snowball and cause all sorts of additional problems. Besides, it seems a little extreme to call the cops for music playing loudly at 4:30 in the afternoon. If it happens at night and interrupts Hubby's sleep, he will probably beat me to the phone.

Maybe I should take an entirely different course of action. I could bake some Christmas treats and take them over there. It would certainly be better on my blood pressure.

Or I could just go get on the elliptical in the basement every time they turn on the music. That could have multiple benefits!

But I'd rather just punch them in the throat.