Just after 3 this morning, a party next door spilled out the front door and into the yard. After some protracted I love you, mans and You’re my besht friends, Pete grumbled, padded down the stairs and outside, where he said, “Guys, guys, you can’t do this. Go the hell home.” So we inadvertently contributed to the number of drunk drivers on the road before sunup, because almost as soon as those people left and Pete climbed back into bed another wave of grad students up past their bedtimes stumbled off the porch. This went on for about an hour before the house was empty or everyone assumed crash positions, and we fell asleep. When the alarm went off, we groaned and complained, because not only were we tired but we were also pissed we literally could not get those kids off our lawn.
I may need a muumuu.