I am officially old and cranky. Arrived home at 9pm last night after dinner with friends to hear a MASSIVE party over the back fence. I’m talking music so loud the whole street sounded like one big rave. They must have hired industrial speakers. And put them outside, on their deck. Husband immediately took off to the late-night chemist for ear plugs. When he got back I went in search of their house number so I could call the police at the MOMENT their frigging disco became illegal. I mean, WTF, we live in the middle of suburbia. No-one within coo-ee could sleep with that racket going on. If those idiots think they’re getting an invite to the next nature strip Aussie Day celebration, they can think again. They are WIPED. I was fuming as I stomped up to the two bouncers standing out the front, crossing off names. We had a set-to on the front lawn, with me using the words “no respect” a lot and “what about the people with little kids trying to sleep?”. Then I went home, took two sleeping tablets, called the police, and spent the minutes before oblivion plotting revenge (initially wanted to waterbomb their house with food-dye-filled balloons, then decided on hiding prawns in their garden to rot and stink). Yep, I’m officially old (well, apart from the revenge stuff, that was a bit juvenile). Except I was officially old when I was 18. My nickname was Cinderella, because I never made it past midnight. Let alone 9pm after a few chardys on a Saturday night when I’m 43. When I started dating Husband, he was a night owl and pro-fun, so we eventually settled into a comfortable relationship where I’d leave him at parties and go home to bed. It worked fine until he didn’t arrive home one morning until 10am, was kicked out of the house and threatened with divorce, and had a 3am curfew imposed on himself (after being grounded for a few months for bad behaviour). Since we don’t get invited to many parties these days – we’ve entered the “come over for brunch” years – and Husband’s stamina has been compromised by middle age, it’s no longer an issue. But, like an elephant, I never forget.
TONIGHT’S MENU: Something with a beef fillet. Still undecided. Plus more spag bol pies for the Sprogs.