It isn’t that I think there won’t be kids where we’re moving. It isn’t that I think there won’t be dogs where we’re moving. And trust me, I understand that the majority of the population thinks that sleeping until seven o’clock in the morning is an “oh poor baby”, with sarcasm, luxury. But I absolutely guarantee that the aforementioned majority, no doubt, are the people who have kids and / or dogs that they allow to run aimlessly through apartment complexes making all that racket first thing in the morning.
Yeah, well I don’t have either one, and there’s a reason for that (Read: Reasons. So many in fact that it would be impossible to list them all and after reading this post you’ll be thanking me that I don’t have either, believe me.). Both of them, when they make their all too similar shrill barking sounds, cause my spine to curl into an almost pretzel like shape and make me wish I had a current subscription to Guns & Ammo.
All I want is a little respite, a bigger yard and less populated street, so maybe I can avoid feeling like the neighbor in Rear Window every morning. He got caught after he knocked off the little puppy and used it for what it was really good for – fertilizing his roses. Too bad Jimmy Stewart had that stupid injury or the guy would have most certainly been in the clear. Lord knows all the neighbors were secretly thankful he got rid of that constant barking; man did I ever appreciate his tenacity. The neighbors were just lucky he only went after the dog and the wife. I assure you, it was simply because there were no kids around.
Because here’s the thing…all kids are assholes. Your kid is no exception. The sooner you admit it to yourself and others, the happier we will all be because perhaps you’ll attempt to do something about it.
I’m not saying that only kids are assholes though. Far from it. In reality, everyone is a complete and utter jackwagon. The people who understand that they are an asshole, and feel as if it might be inhumane to subject other people to that personality trait, are the ones who don’t have kids. Or dogs.
Or at the very least, if those who get what I’m saying here do have kids, they will have taught the mini versions of themselves that, no, it’s not okay to play your fucking recorder at eardrum piercing volume at 6:30 in the morning outside everyone’s apartment in the complex as if you were driving the god damned snakes out of Ireland.
Maybe you’d also keep your hounds from hell on a leash so A) they don’t poop all over the grounds of the complex (which you refuse to pick up so the wafting smell of it filters into my open windows all day long) and B) so they don’t go after each other in what sounds like a page out of the Michael Vick playbook of how to train your dog to go for the jugular at 6:30 in the morning.
As a side note here, when your dog is off its leash and it runs chirping in order to kill another off-leash dog, your tiny voice 100 feet away saying “Bailey, no. Bailey, come!” really ain’t getting the job done. After the eleventh time you said it in thirty seconds I’d have thought you would have figured that out. But silly me, I should have known better. Shame on me for having hope. Go buy a fucking leash. And please, start using it.
I guess what I’m really trying to say is that someone should really teach all those old dogs – meaning the idiots who have decided that rearing something to adopt their own awful habits is somehow a good idea – some fucking manners.
Look, I get it, you’re probably all thinking that I too have terrible habits, things that could be considered just as annoying. Sure, I watch television at a volume that would blow out most old people’s hearing aids. Fair enough. I’m sure the neighbors downstairs are none too thrilled with that and yet they too suffer in silence. Likely plotting how to get rid of me on a daily basis.
Well I have a great idea first floor neighbor. How about calling the bank and asking them to speed up this whole approving our purchase process so we can get the hell out of here. The sooner I’m in my new home with the eight foot high barrier wall and acreage buffer from all those small and loud annoyances, the safer children and dogs (read: their owners) will be. And the sooner you’ll have someone new move into the apartment above you while I finally get the night’s rest I so desperately need.
And then you can plot to get rid of them instead while I lie in my smell free, off-pitch flute free bedroom until whatever hour I choose with the television up to whatever volume I like.