I have arrived. I am well and truly in my element as an old person.
What has happened, you ask? What has put me on the other side of the divide, moving me from carefree youth to codgerly elder status? I’M SO HAPPY YOU ASKED.
On Saturday, I made my first official noise complaint. At 1:30 in the morning, seething and raging because the restaurant/club TWO BLOCKS FROM MY HOUSE was playing music loud enough to rattle my living room. Does no one else complain? Does no one else care? People live in the building right next to that restaurant – I have to imagine they’ve all killed themselves and/or each other at this point, which is the only reason this is allowed to go on. This is perhaps the third week in the last two months that this has happened. It could be more, but I was out camping a couple of those weekends, so I wasn’t sent into a fit of ranting hysteria those weekends.
Given the 40-minute hold time to make a complaint, it’s possible that everyone else in my neighborhood was calling to rant as well. Or, I suppose, given the storms of the recent weeks and the people with no power and freezing temperatures, it’s possible that people were calling 311 for information more important than “how do I make these jerks shut up?” But. I doubt it. I really, really doubt it.
I’m turning 33 this week, and I’m really excited to embrace this new stage of fist shaking and lawn-off-getting.