The Princess and the Wheelie

The thick gray fogg that rolled in late last night, still hovers outside this morning. And all is quiet. Far from the quiet that was last night, as I struggled to sleep in my bed disturbed by both the ignorance and rudeness of youth.

The heinous neghbor child - as I have taken to calling him - complete with friend, took it upon themselves to ride squeaky, in need of WD-40 bicycles at the witching hour last night. Popping wheel-ies in the driveway and having conversations, none that were in the hushed variety, as I could understand every single word they said, the two idiots proceeded for over an hour and a half to sorely test my patience.

Patience, which I might add I do not possess at all when I am in desperate need of sleep. And restrain myself as I tried, I couldn't help at one point, hopping down from my bed, pulling back the silk curtains, and yelling a profanity or two of my own at the deliquents.

This of course inspiring more laughter than fear in the dumb and dumber crew.

Giving up, though the thought of throwing on a pair of jeans and a top, was high on my list of things to do to confront the little weezils, I decided against it. Coming to the conclusion that nothing I could do would scare them away, or worse yet, make them feel bad about being such dicks at such a late hour of the night, the only option was retreat.

Still, I cannot believe their parents allow them to disturb the entire neighborhood with their shenanigans. If it's not nearly running people over in the yard with their damn motorbikes, now we're expected to put up with middle of the night disturbances in our own driveway. And I for one am not having it.

Something is going to be done.

I haven't lived here for 8 years - almost 9 - to start letting a brat pack of pimple popping boys to come between me and the sweet sound of silence of living in the country.

Games on.