“Dissonance” Op. 503 Arranged for a Trio

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After a brief respite, 503 was at it again. And this time, they were not alone. As a rule, I don’t believe in god. But there are some nights where I’m convinced that the god-I-don’t-believe-in really does exist and is furiously conducting his latest work just to teach me a lesson.

So, I’m in bed. It’s 11pm. Wa-hay past my bedtime and as I nestle into the warmth of my duvet and hide my toes from my cat (this is a bitch, because I like to lie straight but he’s basically making that impossible – little bastard), I take a deep breath and savour the still of the night. And then, in some cruel twist of fate, the silence is shattered but none other than my fun-loving, laughing, singing, dancing, drinking, whine-o neighbours. I almost burst into tears. And tonight it’s the extended remix: 1+3+4 = straight to the top of the charts of royally pissing. me. off. And this time, they’ve included guest artists. Ladies and gentlemen, may I please present 503 featuring drunk girls in the street below and the chorus of night shift workers from the Mount Nelson Hotel. Fan-fucking-tastic.

503 adds to their latest opus, sneezing loudly enough to rock the block. And playing speed-bowler with something heavy. And of course there’s the usual whooping, laughing, and shouting. Oh, and clapping.

Cue the drunk chicks: They’re sitting in a car, one is getting dropped off. (How do I know this? Because I’m an unashamed curtain-twitcher, and I’m so furious at being kept awake that I’m standing on my balcony smoking.) The one in the passenger seat has a white poodle on her lap. Where were they that allowed dogs? The passenger gets out, with a helmet and (pr)(l)oudly shows her scooter to her friend, who’s still in the drivers seat of the car. They’ve left the door open. Of course, that means the poodle escapes, and they start shrieking. And then singing. Drunkenly. I accept that nothing is rational when you’ve had a few toots, but I still want to slap them silly.

Enter the Mount Nelson end-of-shift staff. There are about 30 of them. No hope at all that they’re going to be considerate. (Even though I’ve phoned their HR department and I know I’m not the only one. “Thank you for being so calm, Susan in HR said. “I wasn’t so calm at 2am this morning.” I counter.)

Lord? Have mercy! And just in case there is no god (er), I pop a couple of horse tranquillizers (I’ll deal with the sleeping pill hangover tomorrow) and try and settle my rattled soul. From there, sleep is swift. I’m considering ear plugs or asking one of my really tall guy friends to help with some intimidation tactics. Then of course, there’s always an envelope of Oscar’s pooh in their postbox.