Why, Bo Duke, why?

I have lots of fabulous things to tell you about this past weekend. It was awesome. There was some destruction and a video or two plus a moment of panic as we walked into the water park.

But I can’t talk about that right now.

Because all I’ve been thinking about for 2 solid days is our life and how in the world we ended up living next door to this middle-aged adolescent.

Friday night, Saturday night and even Sunday night were blissfully peaceful. Which should have been our first clue. I mean seriously, if the man doesn’t have a party for Memorial Day then something is just not right with the world. We were all up until at least midnight when the Packs were here and at least eleven on Sunday night.

And then came Monday night. Chris and I had spent all day working in the band boosters’ concession stand at the Rangers game. 8 full hours folks. I worked BBQ sandwiches and assisted with nachos and cheese fries. Chris worked the actual fryer and spent all day frying batch after batch after batch of French fries and chicken tenders.

A big shout out to my parents for working all those high school football concession stands. Thank you! There will be more jewels on your crown for that sacrifice.

Let me just go on record as saying somehow, by sheer miracle, I was not once tempted to eat anything we served. Watching the cheese come out of the plastic bags and seeing the grease in the BBQ just magically cured me of any gluttonous desires I once harbored.

Anyway, I was exhausted Monday night. I’m 103% not accustomed to being on my feet all day. I sit. A lot. My entire body ached.

I crawled into bed around 8:00 pm to watch a little TV before calling it a night. Somewhere around 8:30 pm, the thumping began.

Seriously.

Long story short, there were words exchanged which ended with Bo or one of his party goers coming over to our house to unscrew our back light bulb. Apparently, that light was keeping them from thoroughly enjoying the evening.

We have no real recourse here. The noise ordinance for our city says everything has to be quiet from 11:00 pm to 7:00 am. That’s great. Except for people who go to bed before that. Like oh, little kids and people who run in the mornings. And really, if we were to involve the police I’m certain that would not make the situation better. Let’s not forget he’s been tasered by the police before at one of his parties. A happy, kind drunk he is obviously not.

I miss my quiet neighborhood before he moved in. I miss crawling into bed and not even thinking about booming noises keeping me up. I miss feeling like I can go to the mailbox without worrying if he’ll decide to confront me.

Why, Bo Duke, why?