The Sonia Show

Writer. Mocker. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

Like a good neighbor, Sonia is there


Yeah, so, we try to be good neighbors.

We live in a house in Glen Park, and our house has a small one-bedroom in-law unit in the front. The unit is under our bedroom and David’s office area, and it is occupied by a very nice young lady. The landlord warned her when she looked at the apartment — there is a family upstairs with a baby and a dog, and she was fine with that. We try to be good neighbors, though. We don’t stomp around, and we don’t have loud parties (we’re too old for that). We do have a dog that barks occasionally, and a Spawn who cries, but she claims she can’t hear it.

He’s been crying more lately. The terrible twos — they are approaching. The Boy collapses on the ground and wails if I dare to stop him from eating dog food, or if I try to read him the wrong book, or if mighty, mighty good man David doesn’t pick him up immediately upon request. Check out the Tumblr Reasons My Son Is Crying for more examples of what my life is like these days.

A few weeks ago, I saw our neighbor, and I asked about the noise since The Boy is running wild through the house these days. She said that she could barely hear him but sometimes he sounds like he has six legs. I explained that’s because the dog is running along side him. She laughed, and I felt relieved that we weren’t being too loud.

But then [cue dramatic music] David bought Calvin this toy, and I am convinced that this toy will convince our nice neighbor to move away.


Remember these? You push it, and it makes a popping noise. I bet you had one. I did. David did. And now Calvin does. I know it’s just one of many loud toys The Boy will have throughout the years.

Sorry, neighbor!

Oh, so, speaking of being a good neighbor, one of our neighbors had a party on Friday night. We went to bed around 10:30 or 11 p.m., because — as I mentioned earlier — we’re old. The party had moved outside, and it was a little loud. It didn’t stop me from falling asleep, and it took David maybe 15 minutes to fall asleep instead of his usual five minutes.

We didn’t think anything of it. Then Saturday morning, we were cc’d on an email. One of our neighbors emailed the partying neighbor and cc’d all the other neighbors on the block. (He has everyone’s email address!) He proceeded to complain about the noise and asked for an apology. Here’s my favorite part, though:

We were quite surprised by the loud and noisy party in your front yard last night that continued beyond 11PM. Since the City laws do not permit outside parties after 10PM, we can only assume that this party was not chaperoned.

So, to sum it up for you: Our neighbor’s teenage son threw a party, and our other neighbor told on him!


Oh, and just because the party was outside after 10 p.m. means the party was unchaperoned? I like to imagine his reasoning as he wrote the email: “All adults know the city ordinance, which clearly states that outside parties must be over by 10 p.m., therefore this party was unchaperoned.”

Umm, I’m an adult, and I don’t know the city ordinances. Last year I almost bought a fire pit for our front patio until David told me that it would probably violate all kinds of city ordinances. By the way, this is the same neighbor who told me that David and I need to bring our trash cans back from the curb in a more timely fashion after trash day, or we were going to be in violation of city ordinance. Seriously. That happened.

Saturday afternoon, we received another email: this one from the teenager who threw the party, apologizing for the noise.

I emailed him back: “No worries. Parties happen … as they should! Thank you for the email.”

I felt so bad for him. His party wasn’t THAT loud, and it didn’t even go that late. Maybe 11:30? And he’s just a kid, but of course, part of being a kid is getting caught hosting an unauthorized party. Well, that’s what 1980s teenage comedies taught me anyway.


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/mocker/goober/mother in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, podcast, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

3 thoughts on “Like a good neighbor, Sonia is there

  1. My mother likes to tell the story of how an auntie bought me that exact same toy when I was small, and after a few weeks of continuous happy “pop pop POP” all over the house… it mysteriously disappeared. Nobody knows where it went, she tells me.
    I have my suspicions.

  2. We’ve had neighbors like that. The asshole finger-wagger, not the party teen. Actually, we’ve had the partiers, too, but they were in their mid-40s and obnoxious.

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