What my grump old self should do to my neighbors

Sitting down for a nice, relaxing evening with some bad whisky/Dr. Pepper, the History Channel and perhaps some writing! (Ha! Yes, sometimes I actually write things) And then what appears to be a semi-truck trailer starts rattling upstairs.

Oh wait, that's the neighbor playing music. Which is totally cool, right? I mean they're allowed to play music. It's Saturday night. Whatev.

Except the old man in me secretly wants to wake up at 6 am and rap my broom across the ceiling over and over again just to get back at them. I mean, music fine. The horrible crap they're playing is something that would cause a bad wedding DJ to say "whoah, whoah, whoah, I'm trying to get laid by one of the brides maids, not start a riot."

Consider me officially an old grumpy man.