Feeling okay

Well, you can definitely tell it's spring because all the hoodrat kids have emerged from the warm, smoky confines of their homes into the street in front of our house. Apparently, none of these kids have bedtimes because I go to sleep every night listening to them scream at the top of their lungs, dribble basketballs and throw things at the house. They are a delight! I really don't get it--they all have backyards they can play in, but they would much rather stand outside our door and play curb ball until 11 at night. I didn't even know what curb ball was until I moved into J's house. If you are unaware, let me explain it to you: 2 kids take up positions on either side of the street near the curb. Then they throw a ball back and forth, but they're trying to hit the edge of the curb so the ball returns to them instead of letting the other person catch it. And they can do this for HOURS. Thus, I am ever so grateful when somebody decides to park in front of our house so they have to move down a house or two to play. Ugh. Freakin' curb ball. Is it wrong to want to shoot bottle rockets at 10-year-olds? 'Cause, I'm telling you, they're asking for it.