What. The. Hell.

Ah, Sunday. The day of rest. Nothing to do but watch the birds migrate south, scrape the ice off of your car, and be harassed by your upstairs neighbor's mother.

No, I'm not joking.

As I was cleaning off my wife's car on Sunday afternoon so she could head off to work, a truck pulled into the driveway and a grumpy-looking middle-aged blonde woman stepped out. "You live downstairs, right?" she asked. My wife and I nodded.

What followed was about fifteen minutes of her accusing us of harrassing her son and us setting the record straight. Apparently the police have shown up three times, and - judging from her tone and demeanor - she believed we thought ourselves better than him and were sending the cops by with no valid reason. At one point she felt it necessary to tell us that she was a college graduate; why this was important escapes me. The main points of her argument were:

• "My son isn't angry. He's quiet" Except when he's yelling at my wife for politely requesting he park somewhere where he's not blocking someone in. Or using an argumentative tone when replying to a polite note I left requesting he not park where he's blocking people in. Or when he's yelling at his fiancé. Or the dog. Yep, he's really quiet, he is.
• "Everyone makes mistakes." Yes, they do. However, the real measure is how you correct these mistakes and whether or not you learn from them - something your son has yet to master, judging from the three visits from the police.
• "I'm a college graduate." Congratulations. However, you must not have a degree where you learned logic and debate, considering you dismissed us even though your argument had more holes than a block of swiss cheese when you left.
• "I just want everyone to get along." Obviously not, considering you spent the last fifteen minutes verbally assaulting us.

This apparently stemmed from us calling the landlords because of the pot smoke wafting into our apartment. "Wafting" is an understatement - by the smell alone you would've thought the Grateful Dead were camping in our living room and brought all the Deadheads they could find. Mind you, this was the fourth time this happened. There's several problems here:
1. There is a no smoking clause in our lease.
2. My wife is asthmatic.
3. I had to take a drug test as a qualification of my employment; there's the chance another one could come up. I fail, I lose my job.
4. There's a newborn baby in the same space.
5. It's illegal - under the law, the house could be seized along with everything in it, including our possessions.

This is the same guy whom I referred to as a retarded marmot in a previous post. Apparently, I'm not too far off the mark.

This would be the first time we have complained about the upstairs neighbors, and we called the landlords - not the police. We want nothing to do with our neighbors, except to celebrate when they leave. However, we're now facing the possiblity of being slapped with a harassment suit because someone's mom can't face the fact that her son is a complete and utter asshole, and someone called him on it.

Mommy doesn't need to defend her son. Mommy needs to open her eyes, and see her son through everyone else's eyes. Then, perhaps, a spanking.