There goes the neighborhood

I'm not sure where to start, but the conclusion is me doing a Norman Bates mom stare at my landlord at about 6 in the morning (That's A.M. for anyone confused). Ok I'll start with the noises. It begins at about 4 A.M. with the clearing of an over 70 year old man's throat and thus followed by the almost rocket propulsion like clearing of his sinus'. In steps the garage opening and then what can only be described as what sounds like the Trench Coat Mafia producing pipe bombs. That lasts for a half hour until his (as equally old) wife busts in the backyard to begin an argument containing words half of Italian decent and half of American. Due to his name (which I won't say, but if you're not retarded you can figure it out) it takes me at least 5 minutes to stop singing about an Italian Christmas donkey. I cant make out what they fight over because his broken English is now broke and he just sounds like he's trying to sell her beans. Eventually they stop arguing at about 5 or so, which brings back all the wonderful noises of a man and a garage. "But Ken, I thought you said this ends with you angrily staring out a window?" first off don't call me Ken I don't know you, second you just ruined the 5-6 A.M. part of my story. I hope your satisfied with yourself.