Status of Fences: Mended
Well, it seems I’ve been engaging in a lot of needless seething about the rock band next door. I came home from an appointment today to see the drummer walking through his yard with a huge roll of pink insulation tucked under his arm. It could only mean one thing—the much-anticipated (by me) soundproofing of their basement was underway. Not having ever bitched out introduced myself to the drummer, I nipped over to do so.
I was quite taken aback by how young the kid looks. If he were to tell me he was a sophomore in high school, I’d believe it. I know he's got to be older than that, but still. I'm sure I look quite elderly to him. As I was shaking his hand, a guy who looks like he might be a member of one of the more recent incarnations of Lynyrd Skynrd rounded the corner and introduced himself as the drummer’s dad. The son faded into the background (in typical high school fashion) and the dad took over the conversation. He told me that he’d flown in from out of state to help his son with the soundproofing. He went on at length about how he himself was a musician so he knows how important it is to be respectful of neighbors, etc., etc. He piled on the reassurances. The soundproofing was going to be so thorough that it would "knock out all sound." He even shared some technical details (which of course sailed right over my head). It was a bit overboard, which leads me to conclude that the drummer and his girlfriend must have told him all about Ye Olde 24-karat Bitch next door.* I've become a legend, apparently.
Anyway, I am greatly relieved not only that the soundproofing is being done, but that the dad seemed to be trying to sort of apologize on his son's behalf. I’m totally prepared to do a 180 on my opinion of my new neighbors. I'm telling you, large rolls of pink insulation are a wonderful mood elevator. Actually, my mood was already rather elevated, owing to the fact that earlier today I finished and turned in a semi-hellish work project. Yay! I’m going to take Thursday and Friday off before a new onslaught of projects arrives on Monday. As a freelancer this is the ideal situation to be in: Not working at the moment, but with a big wad of work on the way in the near future, so there's no need to squander precious free time drumming up business. Let’s hope I don’t squander it some other way.
*In addition to the ass chewing I administered mere days after they moved in, I was forced to go knock on their door a few weeks ago when the band started playing so loud (on a Sunday after 9:00 PM) that we could hear it in every room of our house. B went with me. He was friendly. I, unfortunately, couldn’t contain my fury and demanded to know when the soundproofing was going to happen. I regret being so confrontational—it’s very unlike me. The next time I see the girlfriend of the drummer (the recipient of the ass chewing both times), I’m going to apologize for flying off the handle. Sure I was within my rights to complain, but I could have been a lot more civil.
I was quite taken aback by how young the kid looks. If he were to tell me he was a sophomore in high school, I’d believe it. I know he's got to be older than that, but still. I'm sure I look quite elderly to him. As I was shaking his hand, a guy who looks like he might be a member of one of the more recent incarnations of Lynyrd Skynrd rounded the corner and introduced himself as the drummer’s dad. The son faded into the background (in typical high school fashion) and the dad took over the conversation. He told me that he’d flown in from out of state to help his son with the soundproofing. He went on at length about how he himself was a musician so he knows how important it is to be respectful of neighbors, etc., etc. He piled on the reassurances. The soundproofing was going to be so thorough that it would "knock out all sound." He even shared some technical details (which of course sailed right over my head). It was a bit overboard, which leads me to conclude that the drummer and his girlfriend must have told him all about Ye Olde 24-karat Bitch next door.* I've become a legend, apparently.
Anyway, I am greatly relieved not only that the soundproofing is being done, but that the dad seemed to be trying to sort of apologize on his son's behalf. I’m totally prepared to do a 180 on my opinion of my new neighbors. I'm telling you, large rolls of pink insulation are a wonderful mood elevator. Actually, my mood was already rather elevated, owing to the fact that earlier today I finished and turned in a semi-hellish work project. Yay! I’m going to take Thursday and Friday off before a new onslaught of projects arrives on Monday. As a freelancer this is the ideal situation to be in: Not working at the moment, but with a big wad of work on the way in the near future, so there's no need to squander precious free time drumming up business. Let’s hope I don’t squander it some other way.
*In addition to the ass chewing I administered mere days after they moved in, I was forced to go knock on their door a few weeks ago when the band started playing so loud (on a Sunday after 9:00 PM) that we could hear it in every room of our house. B went with me. He was friendly. I, unfortunately, couldn’t contain my fury and demanded to know when the soundproofing was going to happen. I regret being so confrontational—it’s very unlike me. The next time I see the girlfriend of the drummer (the recipient of the ass chewing both times), I’m going to apologize for flying off the handle. Sure I was within my rights to complain, but I could have been a lot more civil.
posted by Rozanne at 5:20 PM
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