I'm goiing to get me a fucking big bass drum

It’s Friday evening. Long week at work, as almost every week is for the Self-Employed. I just want a little peace and quiet. Read the paper, walk the dogs perhaps. Chill.

Or it’s a beautiful Sunday morning. A light breeze, plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the high 60’s. Perfect for some coffee and the newspaper on the deck.

Unless you live in the suburbs. Where families run the streets, children are paramount and nobody seems to understand the concept of Sound Carries Past Your Property Line.

That means on Friday evenings – in my neighborhood at least – the Yuppies all gather in the backyard across the street for win and polite chatter while ALL OF THEIR KIDS run and scream and holler in the front yard. And probably the back too. Until about 9 fucking p.m. It’s lovely.

And on Sunday morning? Well. THAT’S baseball day. At high volume and right next door.

I played the drums in high school. And I think it’s high time I took it up again. I think a day or evening when one of them is having some sort of quiet family gathering would be good, don’t you think? Or out on the deck – if not the front yard – right after the neighborhood darlings go down for the night. Perhaps I could drag out some old Uriah Heep records to play as loud as possible on the deck. Set it up during their cook-out and then go off to a movie or something.