SUNDAY THOUGHTS: IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

I thought I'd be in bed a little longer, but my rest was interrupted.

I finally drifted off to sleep after figuring out how to escape the bass coming from someone's condo. 

Into the ridiculous hours of the morning, the thumping went on. 

Perhaps, a party was going on, but at some points, it didn't seem like the party-goers liked each other. 

I noticed the voice of the neighborhood person I've dubbed "The Loud Lady". 

I've never met her, but I'm imagining some towering amazon of a woman, with a scowl like the cartoon version of The Incredible Hulk. 

I thought about dialing 911, but the police have more important things to do than crash loud parties, I guess, like figuring out who's deciding it's a good idea to just shoot off guns in the middle of the night, or drag race up and down South Capitol Street.

It's amazing how far the human voice can carry. 

This morning, it came crashing through the gentle sound of the falling rain like a sledgehammer. 

A woman was yelling like the world was coming to an abrupt end. 

I got up and went to the window.  

"No! No! It's a black bag and a white bag! It wasn't just one bag!", she screamed.

I was sure she would be fast asleep so early in the morning, but I was mistaken. The Loud Lady (aka The Loud Party Lady) had her family looking for her missing white and black bags this fine morning. 

Poor things were rummaging through the dumpsters in the rain as she yelled out of the window from the warmth of her condo. 

I sure hope they find them, and am sorry the bags, apparently, weren't in the dumpsters-- which made their unfortunate, stinky, early morning hunt totally unnecessary.

Did I mention she's not even in my building? That's right. 

That's what makes it so remarkable. She's in another building on another street, but when she gets to yelling and/or arguing--or even talking on the phone, if I purposed to pay attention, I could hear every word. 

I don't know that I've ever heard a woman be so loud. 

Her voice carries so unbelievably far, that she should work for...well...some organization that needs the services of really loud people. 

My windows are closed. I'm behind brick and mortar and glass, but when she revs up, look out. It's harsh and shrill, and her tone is angry and impatient. It's a shame to wake up that way.

She's not the only loud one around here. 

Another lady, instead of climbing the stairs to knock on the door of the person she intends to visit, yells her name from the time she sees the building until she enters it. It's positively startling. 

Then, instead of taking her attempt at surroundsound inside, when she finally reaches her destination, she decides it's best to remain in the stairwell so that we all can be privy to what's going on. 

When she leaves, obviously she still has things to say because she keeps talking on the way down the stairs. 

I wonder why she doesn't just finish her conversation face to face, or tone it down a little? Looking for attention, maybe?

I know way too much information that I shouldn't about lost bags, drunkenness, appointments, cheaters, pizza preferences, rehab, Chinese food, and vomiting cats.

I guess I won't be enjoying the convenience of the laundry room any more.

10:12. Sirens blaring. 

Yep. I'm awake, and it's okay. 

Thanks, Lord. I appreciate it. 

Better to be able to hear The Loud Lady and the sirens, than to be unconscious on a stretcher inside that ambulance.