Queen of the Angry Nanas

I am only 30 and I think I am already queen of the angry nanas.

The area I live in is really quiet – like, really quiet. I have gradually become very used to that quiet and get angry when it is interrupted by the sound of laughing children. Who are these children to laugh outside my house while they are playing? Don’t they have iPhones to tinker with inside or something?

I live in a townhouse that is flanked by three other identical townhouses on each side. I’m the monkey in the middle. We all share a ginormous backyard that my husband and stepson love to use for playing catch, football, or whatever else boys do while they aren’t annoying me. They can make all the noise they want out there and it doesn’t bother me, but as soon as I hear the voice of other people back there, I immediately go into hermit mode.

A couple recently moved in a few houses down and they have two little boys that are back there all the time. They are adorable and stuff, but if they see me, they will yell “Hi!” and then try to come talk to my dog or something. I am not in the mood to talk to a little kid. If I was, I would have one. To avoid said children, I bring my dog out to go the bathroom in front of the house instead of the back just so I will not have to talk to anyone.

My retiree next door neighbors are wonderful because they are a) living in Florida for over half the year and b) totally silent and hate saying hello to me. Unfortunately, someone thought it was a good idea for the grandkids to pay a visit this week. Suddenly I have been hearing even more kids outside my house and my anger level has risen. For example, I just walked into my bedroom, opened the windows, and sat down at my desk to write this blog. Then, I heard a child laugh. I immediately got up, shut the windows and turned my AC on. Looks like I’d rather listen to a loud whirring sound over my head than a child having fun. Oh, and yesterday when I went to get my mail, they were standing in front of my mailbox playing. How dare they.

My immediate solution to this problem is to finally break down and get a big curtain for my sliding glass door that leads to the backyard. I probably should have bought one two years ago when we moved in here, especially because at night time I always imagine murderers are standing in my backyard staring into my house, but I think it’s definitely time to make it happen.

I’m thinking this might be less about me getting old and more about hating surprises. For my first three semesters of college, I lived in the Bronx. I used to hear the ice cream man at 2AM and gun shots in the middle of the afternoon. None of this surprised me and it didn’t bother me because frankly, that’s what I would expect from the Bronx. My senior year of college, my bedroom window in Boston was mere feet from the T. This didn’t bother me either because when I signed my lease, I knew there were T tracks outside my apartment. Duh. However now, living in this scary quiet country setting, I expect to hear nothing. I don’t even want to hear breathing (well, except my own. That’s always a good thing.)

At least I will always be able to count on the people across the street to be quiet and leave me alone. Shout out to my homies from Rhode Island Historical Cemetery #39 in Tiverton! HOLLA.

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