Thank You for Visiting...Now Please Go Home

     One of the nice things about living in an historic urban neighborhood is that people from all over love to come visit. One of the bad things about living in a cool old neighborhood is that sometimes, thousands of people like to converge all on the same weekend.
     My neighborhood dates back to the late sixteen or seventeen hundreds. I've lived here close to twenty years and perhaps if I bothered to do the research, I'd know the exact date. It's an old seaport area, home to drunken sailors for a long, long time.
     This particular weekend the neighborhood is holding what it calls a "Fun" festival. For me, it was fun for oh, let's say, the first ten to fifteen times I experienced it. Now, I would love for all these nice people to pack it in and leave.
     When I explained my dislike of the festival to a new neighbor, she said, "Oh, you're one of those people."
      One of those people? I had no idea there was a special category just for us.
     And to further perpetuate my new reputation as the grouchy woman on the street, I will have to endure, at some point today, our annual block party. Someone had the brilliant idea about nine years ago to start this tradition during the festival weekend. Every year I have to devise new and creative ways to politely avoid it. It's not that I don't like my neighbors, they're all great people. I simply hate block parties.
     I suppose that makes me one of  those people yet again.