I hate country music
I'm sorry if you are a die-hard country music fan, but I hate it. I mean, I am absolutely repulsed by it. Especially when it keeps me up at night. Let me explain.
This weekend is Memorial Day weekend in our town, and that means that an annual hot air balloon festival is taking place at the civic center, not two miles from our neighborhood. THAT means that people from all over the U.S. come and assemble in droves to hear lesser-known musical artists who perform at an outside amphitheater each evening. THAT means that there are no walls with which to contain the music, and THAT means that everyone within a 4-mile radius, unless they have 10-inch thick steel walls on their houses, can hear every note played and every word sung.
I was very, very tired last night, and though I hate to admit it, some grouchiness was shining through a little bit. I climbed into bed, wearily, at 10:50pm. I laid still. What was that? Did I leave the stereo on in the living room? Was the computer left streaming an online radio broadcast? Was I delusional? Nope. Oh, yes. It's the concert. Twangy notes filled the air, and even twangier guitar licks buzzed around my ears. I pulled the quilt up over my head. Now it was muffled twang.
I think it was after midnight when the music finally cut out, and the plates on our walls finally quit rattling. I heard a strum of a guitar, then a "bwhah bwhah!", which I'm assuming was a distorted "Thank you!" I sighed with relief. I would get a peaceful night's rest now. Maybe I could sleep in a little tomorrow (and by "sleep in," I mean not wake up until Gardner wakes up at 7:45 or so).
Then, at 6:30 am, I awaken to "thud, thud, thud...." They were testing out their base drum for TONIGHT'S concert.
I love my town, and I love Memorial Day. But I don't know how I feel about when those two things collide in one spot.
p.s. Thanks to all of you readers who hung in there with me as I recounted wedding and honeymoon memories all this week. It probably didn't mean anything to you significance-wise, but it helped excavate memories we hadn't thought about in a long time. And maybe, too, it inspired some of you to plan your next vacation in the New England states; I hope so. Thanks.
This weekend is Memorial Day weekend in our town, and that means that an annual hot air balloon festival is taking place at the civic center, not two miles from our neighborhood. THAT means that people from all over the U.S. come and assemble in droves to hear lesser-known musical artists who perform at an outside amphitheater each evening. THAT means that there are no walls with which to contain the music, and THAT means that everyone within a 4-mile radius, unless they have 10-inch thick steel walls on their houses, can hear every note played and every word sung.
I was very, very tired last night, and though I hate to admit it, some grouchiness was shining through a little bit. I climbed into bed, wearily, at 10:50pm. I laid still. What was that? Did I leave the stereo on in the living room? Was the computer left streaming an online radio broadcast? Was I delusional? Nope. Oh, yes. It's the concert. Twangy notes filled the air, and even twangier guitar licks buzzed around my ears. I pulled the quilt up over my head. Now it was muffled twang.
I think it was after midnight when the music finally cut out, and the plates on our walls finally quit rattling. I heard a strum of a guitar, then a "bwhah bwhah!", which I'm assuming was a distorted "Thank you!" I sighed with relief. I would get a peaceful night's rest now. Maybe I could sleep in a little tomorrow (and by "sleep in," I mean not wake up until Gardner wakes up at 7:45 or so).
Then, at 6:30 am, I awaken to "thud, thud, thud...." They were testing out their base drum for TONIGHT'S concert.
I love my town, and I love Memorial Day. But I don't know how I feel about when those two things collide in one spot.
p.s. Thanks to all of you readers who hung in there with me as I recounted wedding and honeymoon memories all this week. It probably didn't mean anything to you significance-wise, but it helped excavate memories we hadn't thought about in a long time. And maybe, too, it inspired some of you to plan your next vacation in the New England states; I hope so. Thanks.
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