Airing of Grievances: Landscaper Loathing

Dear neighbors who think participating in noisy activities at ungodly hours of the morning is appropriate,

I appreciate your efforts to mow your lawn, leaf blow and whatever else actual people do to their yards. You live on a street that is mostly inhabited by college kids, so I get your need to assert yard dominance. Truly, I respect the hustle. If the rest of us are going to maintain our unkempt little patches of green, you should flaunt your real-person money, which affords the luxury of grass well-kept enough to be a “lawn.”

That being said, please remember that you do, in fact, live on a street made up primarily of students. Just something to bear in mind when you schedule the maintenance of said “lawn.” I, for one, set my alarm for 10 a.m. each and every day and, shockingly, don’t wish to be woken up a moment sooner, even for such a noble cause as your blowing leaves from your yard to mine.

You see, I am someone who likes to dream big. By that, I mean I like to go to bed early, wake up late and have lots of dreams while I sleep. I often dream about a class I don’t like being canceled indefinitely, or having already completed an assignment that, in reality, I procrastinated. Beyond just my night-to-night dreams, I’ve also dreamt up some pretty unbelievable things, including but not limited to:

  • My landlord taking a chill pill and letting my housemates and I get a puppy
  • Tulane faculty surprising us with an early spring break but letting us keep the original spring break too
  • Meeting Michelle Obama AND John Krasinski at Fresco Café & Pizzeria and taking a picture with me standing in between them
  • You, not scheduling your landscaping for the borderline obscene hour of 6:30 a.m.

As you can see, my dreams are pretty fantastic, and there is perhaps no greater disappointment in life than having these beautiful streams of imagination swept away from me, much in the same way you sweep the leaves out of your yard and consideration for my feelings out of your head. By all means, mow and blow through the mid-morning and afternoon. But know that as I write this, the sound of your yard maintenance is bellowing through my house, the clock has not yet struck 8 a.m. and I am, to say the least, livid.

I beg of you to hear my plea (which, yes, may involve pausing your weed whacking in order to properly listen) to stop this tomfoolery as soon as humanly possible.


Very tired Tulanian

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