It started last night about six o’clock, during the football game. One long tweet or a double tweet-tweet, like somebody calling a dog. But sadly there are no dogs here, and no visible sign of the person who is standing outside, maybe under a tree or in one of the garages, whistling like an idiot. Well, not so much like an idiot as just a whistling idiot, right?

He – could be a woman, but I doubt it – does it about every 15 or 20 minutes. It went on for over 4 hours last night. It started up again this morning, around nine. That’s when I started yelling knock it off and stop that whistling. I think it’s stopped, but how can you be sure? It’s the kind of thing that just gets right on your last reserve nerve, and keeps you on edge waiting to hear it again.

We have a noise pollution problem here anyway. Loud car stereos, cars that can’t possibly have legal mufflers. We have a grocery truck that pulls into the condos and parks and plays La Cucaracha with its horn, which is illegal. I’m gonna get that guy; me and a few of the other owners. There are lots of kids, but that’s life in the big city. I would never ask children to play quietly. But I wonder if I’m starting to turn into a grumpy old (middle-aged) dick for wanting a little peace and quiet.

No. The world is getting more crowded all the time, and if we don’t learn to treat each other with courtesy and consideration, we’ll eat each other like crazed rats in a cage. There are 280 “families” here, and though we have a very nice setting, anything disruptive we do effects somebody else’s quality of life and property values. So Mr. Whistler better not start that stuff up again, ‘cuz I’ll find him. Have us a little roshambo.