Turning point
I can pinpoint the exact age, perhaps even the same hour that one becomes cranky and old.
About 1:30 in the morning, when a loud conversation and vapid giggling can be heard, once again, at the hot tub.
I was armed with a long, built-up irritation with the loudness at the pool, especially late at night. And a new knowledge that I could call security.
I wrestled with it for about 10 minutes as I moved into another room, yet I could still hear it like they were right next to me.
I did it. I called security. The guy who answered the phone didn’t seem real impressed; I wasn’t even sure he was paying attention to where I lived. But he said he’d send someone out.
I was too chicken to get up and monitor the progress. I couldn’t tell if they were leaving of their own volition or if they were told to leave. I did hear a gate open creakily shortly before their departure. It could’ve been the impetus for them leaving, too.
All I know is that instead of listening to post-adolescent mating rituals for an hour, it only lasted about a half-hour. And I was able to continue watching as much X-Files as my eyes would take. Without the noise.
Nobody likes a tattletale, I suppose. But I own this place and I have the right to some quiet in my own home. The pool area is not off-limits late at night, but the deal is that you have to be quiet. And these kids never are.
Who knew that old age came at 32?
It happens to the best of us
In my case I became cranky when our first child was born (four years ago: at 32. There is nothing that will piss me off more than a loud car waking up my sleeping baby (whom we spent hours getting to sleep).