Thursday, August 5, 2010

Neighbour Issue

Last night, I was in a great deal of pain, and so went to bed at 630 pm.

Or tried to.

My neighbour, a man nearing 50, believes himself to be an up and coming rock star.  His band plays in bars....although I'm betting they don't get any return gigs.  If they do, it speaks alarmingly of how much booze affects perception.

So, he was practicing.  Wolf and I had heard him warming up in a falsetto earlier, and as Wolf put it, "It sounds like he's slamming his male parts in a drawer.  Repeatedly."  I suggested, even dared Wolf to go bang on his door and ask if he was ok, but Wolf wouldn't.  Coward.

My bedroom window was open.  So was R's.  The room he was practicing in shares a wall with us, and of course the master bedroom is along this wall.  It sounded like he was standing on my bed, practicing.  At top volume.  What he lacks in talent, he makes up for in enthusiasm and volume.

He was singing in the dreadful falsetto.  He repeated the same song 3x before I realized that it was supposed to be a Led Zeppelin tune. "Rock 'n Roll"

This alarmed me.  First, I was raised on Zeppelin, Eagles, Doors, Steppenwolf, Bob Seger.  I could sing the lyrics to Zeppelin and Seger songs long before I knew my ABCs.  For me NOT to recognize a Zeppelin tune is an alarming thing, and speaks to how badly he was butchering it.  He must have repeated the song 6x altogether, and the only thing that improved was his enthusiasm, and self praise.  I'd never known someone that got worse with practice, but he does.

He then moved on to a Rascal Flatts song.  I have no idea which one, since I only identified it by the singer in the background.  My neighbour was pretty consistent in drowning it out, but I did catch enough bits and pieces to identify the band.

You know how when you're singing along with one of your favourite songs, but don't know all the lyrics quite yet, the way you garble something up, or "mmm" your way through that part?  Yeah.  Well.  R was garbling, at top volume.  Not only was he WILDLY off key, but his garbling didn't even match the missing lyrics syllables.  Seriously. It was bad.  Beyond bad.

I came downstairs, swearing that I was going to go shoot R in the face.  With a flame thrower.  I know where there are lighters and a can of hairspray in the house.

Thankfully, R gave up his vocal practicing shortly thereafter.

My ears seriously hurt after listening to him.  Like having a double ear infection hurt. 
Here's a free tip, in case R ever stumbles across the blog: Your band hasn't made it yet.  Either give it up, or find a different lead vocalist.

And if you EVER damage a Zeppelin song like that again, I have my hairspray at hand.

Don't say you weren't warned.

And stay the heck away from any Queen songs.  You don't want to know what the penalty for killing a Queen song is, but no jury would convict me, cause I'll record you first.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Pain. Oh. My. Word. Pain.

I'm of the suspicion that the latest lidocaine infusion did not go at all well.  I had pain at the site, which is a first, and by the time I had Wolf take it out, I was just about in tears from pain/pressure.  I felt foggy and just disconnected, with pressure in my chest.

No, I didn't go to the Drs or the ER.  Go ahead and smack me if you need to.

I'm going to try the infusion again.  If I get a repeat, I will go in.

Anyways...Saturday night.  Wolf kept trying to send me to bed.  I loathe when he does this, as it makes me feel like a child, and simply doesn't work.  He says he does it because he knows I need extra sleep, so it frustrates him when I'm not taking advantage of the situation and heading to bed early.

I went to bed around 2 am.  Fell asleep.  About 20 minutes later, I woke up, screaming into my pillow.  I had a Charley horse.  In my bicep.  Of my bad arm, of course.

I made it downstairs, and spent about 3 hrs clenching my teeth, biting the blanket, screaming in my throat, praying not to scream out loud and wake up the house.  Sitting perfectly still...any involuntary twitch of my fingers set the Charley horse off screaming all over again.

Kids got up at 540 am, followed shortly by Wolf.

First thing he did was yell at me, telling me to go to bed, giving me crap for staying up all night.  Yeah, like I did it deliberately.  I told him I had a Charley horse in my arm, but he ignored me, and continued to complain that he'd had plans for some 'alone time' that afternoon, and now he couldn't go.

I had no clue he was planning on going out.

Honestly, at that point, I had visions of chucking my coffee at his head.  Still in the mug.

Luckily, I'm not a violent person, and really, REALLY like my mug.

I took a moment...several moments...until I was able to speak coherently, and not go into a flying rage.

I went outside, where he was sitting, and in the quietest voice possible, explained exactly what I'd gone through the night before, and that him throwing a tantrum over plans he hadn't even made, let alone told me about, was ridiculous.  There was probably more said, but that's what it boiled down to.

Honestly, in seven years, its the first time I could completely visualize him moving out...complete with what I'd say and do to get to that point and beyond.  Not good.  Not good at all.

I went to bed around 8 am.  Yes, he'd apologized several times before I went to bed, but I wasn't caring.

Waking up at 730 pm, I was just in time to put the kids to bed.  I was amazed that I hadn't been woken up earlier, like around 4 pm.  

I was back in bed by 9.

I feel better about life in general, and my marriage in particular right now.  Arm is still not back to normal, but at least the Charley horse isn't in spasm.

I have a picture I keep by my computer, to help me in my anger towards Wolf, to let me let go of it, and get on with my marriage.  

Don't blame me for the teal and yellow.  MIL did that without our knowledge, and definitely without our consent!