The Kids are Not Alright.

The ease with which I am drifting into a state of cantankerous old maid-ness is really quite alarming. Returning from a shopping trip today, I flung open the patio doors in order to enjoy the balmy air, then flung them closed again when assaulted by the din from the nearby communal swimming pool.

I can't believe kids are still listening to ravey-dance crap. Have there been no developments in the field of music during the last decade or so? With this discordant thudding row going on, there's no way I can do my VERY IMPORTANT WORK (for the benefit of anybody from the office who might be reading this). 

I got out the trusty binoculars and surveyed the area, noting a sign which specifically forbids the playing of music at the pool area. I then phoned security, and watched gleefully from a distance as the plug was pulled on the teen festivities. Mwahahaha!

All I need now are lace curtains to twitch aside, a child to throw a ball onto my porch so that I can confiscate it, and twenty five cats to consume my decaying corpse after I collapse in the bath from an embolism.
Oh, God.