Yep. I did a dumb thing.

So, our friend The Van D, already heard this story this morning--I was trying to explain why we were late and also trying to remind him to be grateful for home ownership. But since the rest of the Internet has not heard the latest in how dumb I am, I thought I'd advertise!

We've been really lucky in the past two years. We've had fairly quiet neighbors, the woman downstairs has a yappy dog but that's a good reminder of why we have cats, so I don't really mind that much. About a month ago some people moved in to the apartment that shares our bedroom wall. And they are not quiet.

I've heard them yelling at each other, I've heard them throwing things, but more often than not I hear them play guitar.

Badly. And loudly. With an amplifier.

Someone really needs to inform them that they live IN AN APARTMENT.

I try to be a patient person. And in normal circumstances I managed to keep my emotions in check. The Pregnant Version of the Wife--not so much. Everything is very close to the surface and it really doesn't take that much to set me off entirely.

Ye be WARNED.

So. I had a really long day yesterday and was very, very tired. We got home, we ate dinner, we cleaned up dinner, I made some lunches for us and then I went to bed. Bed Sweet Bed. At 8 o'clock.

Now, the way that our bedroom was laid out, Bed Sweet Bed rested against the wall that we shared with the aforementioned hateful, selfish, inconsiderate neighbors. So when I went to bed, my head was 5 inches away from this wall. I read my book for about an hour in lovely peace.

And then it started.

At 9 o'clock at night, they think it's a good idea to play guitar. On an amplifier.

I disagree. And also, I was not amused.

But I was already in pajamas and The Husband had gone to walk the lovely dog we're dog sitting for some friends and I didn't want to get dressed, walk over there, knock on their door and ask them politely to PLEASE TURN THE DAMN THING OFF.

So I did the next best thing. I knocked on the wall. Nicely.

That did absolutely no good.

So I banged on the wall as hard as I could. They heard me that time. And it got quiet. For about 15 minutes. And then they were right back at it.

At this point I'm laying in Bed Sweet Bed, seething with RAGE.

I figured my choices were the following:

1. Get dressed. Go up to their apartment, get the apartment number, go back to my apartment, call the police and issue a noise citation--and yes, I've done this to my neighbors in the past. We're QUIET people, we deserve quiet in return.
2. Get dressed. Go up to their apartment, knock and YELL at them to STOP. Stomp my feet informing them that I am a 6 month pregnant woman in a RAGE and they'd better not mess with me because I will BURN their apartment to the ground in my RAGE.
3. Rearrange the furniture so that the Bed Sweet Bed is against the inside wall.

I rearranged the furniture.

And YES, I know I shouldn't have done that being that I am 6 MONTHS PREGNANT--but at the time it seemed a perfectly reasonable choice. I dreamed about blood and premature babies all night and then the Boy woke me up at 3 am kicking me VERY hard as if to remind me that, "Dude--you are still pregnant with me, remember!?"

He's been kicking me nonstop ever since. Which is nice, except that he's getting big enough that when he kicks me the belly moves and it kind of weirds me out a little.