I called the police twice on New Year’s Eve because people–I don’t know who–were setting off M-80s on my block. My 10-year-old Maine Coon has congestive heart failure. He was terrorized by what sounded like cannon fire. My mother wasn’t in physical danger, but she wasn’t happy. I was working. I am working. I have three more articles to write this weekend.
I called the police at 9:30 when the fireworks started. The pop-pop-pop pretty in the sky fireworks aren’t bothersome to any of us. The I will blow up the loudest thing I can to make people pay attention to me fireworks are.
No, I’m not going to get over it because it was New Year’s Eve. A holiday isn’t a Free Asshole Pass.
I called the police the first time and asked that they just have an officer drive through the neighborhood because I just wanted the overwhelming noise to stop. And the second time I called, I asked for an officer to drive through. I just wanted the people setting off the blasts to see the police and stop.
The officer stopped at my house the second time I called. While I was talking with him, one of my neighbors decided to interfere. She wasn’t involved in setting off the fireworks, but for some reason she felt the need to come over and tell me LET IT GO, IT’S A NEW YEAR, EMBRACE IT.
Embrace what? My cat possibly dying prematurely because some redneck piece of trash wanted to explode things in his yard?
I said no, thank you, I’m not letting it go. The officer got another call, I’m sure one that was more important than mine and that’s why I asked that the officer only drive through, not waste time stopping at my house.
I’m very angry with my neighbor because she apparently thinks so little of me that she puts the momentary enjoyment of my idiot neighbors before the health of my household. And it’s not “just” my household. It’s the couple in their 80s across the street. It’s the couple next door with four children under ten. It’s all the people around us that we don’t know, and we should be expected to . . . what? Go to a hotel every freaking holiday because every freaking holiday here has turned into BLOW SHIT UP, Y’ALL?
I’m going to be 44 years old the day after tomorrow and dammit, I have some expectations. I do NOT expect my neighbor (who is 49, if it matters) to come over to my house and tell me to embrace bad behavior!
I knew that 2017 wasn’t going to be a magic year of People Learning to be Humans again, but I didn’t expect to be slapped in the face with it FIVE MINUTES AFTER MIDNIGHT.
I’ve made my resolutions but I have to add another now: I am not a doormat. I’m going to stand up for myself and my household. Anyone who does not respect that can consider themselves out of my life.