I mentioned this week was going to be insane, right? Right? I had no idea how insane until the other night.

We have a new neighbor in my building. Normally, that’s no biggie, but you have to remember there are only 4 apartments in my building because it’s an old converted Victorian. So, getting a new neighbor is an event. I met the girl in the laundry room. Nice enough, has a cute dog and boyfriend, about 20 years old–which is crazy young compared to the rest of the building, so I’m gonna go ahead and assume daddy’s paying for her room and board.

Her hell hound HOWLED for HOURS the other night. Starting at 11pm, which is bedtime for all but the most dedicated of night owls. The whole house was up going what.the.fuck?? The Canadian contingent came out of her apartment at the same time I did, fire shooting out of her eyeballs. She banged on the chick’s door so hard so bruised her knuckles.

No answer.

I return to my apartment and suffer as the hell hound continues to HOWL. And we’re not talking a pained sound. That’s a whole different kind of noise (my mom’s a dawg breeder, I know these things). This was an endless HOWL. I eventually get so desperate, I find the old packet of earplugs I bought for rock concerts and drag races–yes, I’ve been to both. I stuff a pair in my ears.

And I can still hear the Hell Hound HOWL.

I won’t repeat the kind of language I used at that point. Mind you, I’d been on my feet teaching for 8 hours straight. I hurt. I had no voice left. I was exhausted enough to cry. And there was a damn hell hound determined to wake the whole building. His HOWL echoed through the ventilation ducts in the building.

Finally, I put on some soothing classical music, cracked it up loud, and put the headphone on OVER the earplugs. I could still hear the Hell Hound, but not so much that it kept me awake.

The Canadian knocked on my door the next day after I got home from still more teaching, told me she’d talked to the new neighbor when she strolled in at 2am, and the girl didn’t say she was sorry and didn’t believe her about the Hell Hound HOWL.

Man, all the neighbors and I had a pow-wow about it. Lemme tell ya, it was all I could do to convince the Canadian not to send a tar-and-feathering party. I thought the Canadians were the nice ones. Dayna’s nice. Aren’t all Canadians peace loving? they have fewer wars than the US–but I digress. So, with the help of my other neighbor lady, we successfully restrained the Canadian. I sent a very polite email to the landlady to let her know. I hope it doesn’t happen again, but I’d rather not have the time I go apeshit on her to be the first she’s heard of it. I got back an immediate response that she’d take care of it. I’m pretty sure that means the Canadian called and did go apeshit crazy on her. Eh. Stupid little 20 year old deserved it. S’what you get for having no manners.

Down with Hell Hounds!