How to know when you should probably knock off reading the Shirley Jackson fiction for a while

[kestrell]

When your neighbors have been having a band practice for the past hour, the purpose of which you can only suppose is to advertise their existence as the least musically-talented band ever tot he entire world, because they insist on amplifying their practice at 11, and you realize that you have spent the last ten minutes thinking that, if you were a werewolf, you could knock on the front door and when someone answered the door dash inside and rip out everyone's jugular with your fangs, all the while howling your rage and sense of release to the world until finally you were done and it was silent and you could go back to your nice quiet aerye, covered in warm blood but happy.