Once upon a time, we were friends with the neighbours. Those days are far in the past (sometime around the time M, the woman, ticked my mother off for not liking her six year old daughter, and when I turned down the honour of providing free baby-sitting) and right now, I cannot wait for them to move out come September.
Because they scream. The kids scream and the parents scream. And I can tolerate ‘happy child’ squeals during the day. But screaming matches (between the mother and seven-year-old) at 5am? Makes me angry. The tantrums at 6am, the time the seven year old punched the two year old down the stairs and blamed it on the four year old… plus the domestic disputes at all hours of the day.
When we were friends, we respectfully denied that we heard anything – simply because it didn’t happen very often. These days? I am lucky if I’m only woken up once during the night because of the shrieking.
I just have to get to September and then they’ll be gone. And knowing my luck, we’ll get someone much, much worse