I am old

Last night, around 1:30 a.m., I woke up. The first thing I noticed? Heartburn. The second thing? Music -- Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" specifically -- playing very, very loudly outside my house.

I didn't get up immediately, thinking maybe it was coming from a car that just pulled up or something. However, when that song was over and "Faithfully" began, I realized I woud have to do something.

I got out of bed and turned on the porch light, on the chance they were kids in the street and would be scared off by someone noticing them. No such luck. So I put on my robe and slippers and opened the front door to see for myself who was playing the music.

What I saw was both annoying and kind of sweet. My neighbor and his girlfriend, who are notorious for the screaming matches they have in the street -- while she sits in her car, threatening to leave -- were in a close embrace, dancing in the middle of the street to music blaring from his car. At 1:30 in the morning. In the middle of the week.

What did I do, you ask? Let the poor kids have their moment? Wait until the song was over? Hell, no. I hollered in my mother-est voice, with both hands on my hips, "You have until the end of this song, that's it." Lucy barked at that moment, as if to punctuate the statement for me. The guy looked up from whispering sweet nothings in his lady's ear and his face showed genuine surprise that anyone else could possibly hear the tunes flowing from his car. So I hollered again, "You have until the end of this song, that's it." Then I turned and went inside. The song ended, and the girlfriend left.

Wow, I am an old lady.