North Shore Trophy Wife Irrational. Loses her shit over the ​noise.

It certainly didn’t happen overnight, but it was only yesterday it dawned on me.

I was becoming increasingly irritated at fuckwits. I was on the spectrum of impatience. I was in danger of becoming a cranky old lady. The type that sits on the front porch and yells at randoms getting on with their day.

Mr Woog is no great help in levelling me out, as I actually think he is worst than me. And heaven forbid if you are in the car with Mrs. Goodman and someone cuts her off. Profanity in a South African Accent is far more effective.

Why do you think this is, as we age, we get more irritated? Is it because we have been people pleasing for decades, putting other’s needs ahead of our own (glares at children)?

Take yesterday, for example. A Sunday afternoon is a sacred time. It is toasted sandwiches for dinner, a gold fermented beverage and time for quiet, before a busy week ahead.

Queue the neighbour’s gardening team, who arrive in one car. Out jumps four of them, and they choose their weapon. Whipper snipper, mower, blower vac and hedge trimmer.

And then they fire up those fuckers. The noise is unbelievable and with each rev of a machine, Mr. Woog and I tense up a bit.

“Who does that in a Sunday night?” Mr Woog helpfully declares.

I had been doing some deep breathing and said something along the lines of how life is busy, and these things happen, and blah blah I am a kind and understanding person.

Then sweet silence, after an hour of ear assault.

But the was just the front yard done. Their backyard is bloody huge.

The noise commenced. I believed it to be even louder. Mrs. Goodman heard it from her joint and she lives ten houses away! Something in me snapped.

“Don’t you go over there!” Mr Woog called out after me but it was too late. I walked up the driveway and asked to speak to the boss. We had an exchange in which all of a sudden I found myself apologising to him (???) and saying things like “I know its not your fault, you are trying to run a business…..” and he promised me that he would be finished in an hour.

Which wasn’t ideal either if you ask me.

ZZZZZZIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZIZIZZZIIIIIIIIIIIIII – The sound kind of what was being made but at enormous decibels.

After another hour and with no end in sight, I knocked on Stephanie’s door, almost in tears. My tension level was elevated. I told her that she was PISSING EVERYBODY OFF IN THE ENTIRE NEIGHBOURHOOD. She promised to book them at a more neighbourhood friendly time. I basically gave her a hug of gratitude and remembered the time when Tamara from across the road chastised Mr. Woog for mowing the lawn too early on a Sunday morning, so Tam, if you are reading this, the irony is not lost on me. In fact, I agreed with you.

Do you think you are less patient than say, ten years ago? Would the mowing have pissed you off? Or do I just need to take a chill pill…