So I called 911. Eventually the Milwaukee Sheriff answered, listened to my tale, and transferred me to the 911 operator. Huh? I explained everything all over again, and they said someone would come check things out. So we watched TV, and I returned to the painting of the open instrument case (it's not really properly a guitar shape) in a much more distracted format than we would have preferred.
She stopped throwing things, though they kept yelling. They sat on the porch. They walked around. They kept yelling. They sat on the porch again. They walked around some more. And they kept yelling. Twilight zone came on. We wondered where the police were. They kept yelling. Eventually, they went in the house, but left the door open (still yelling). Finally, they closed the door.
In all this time, we saw no hint of a squad car or other police presence.
I went to take my now-cool bath, figuring that I wouldn't need to be dressed to talk to the police after all. It's been hot and muggy, so the water was wonderful. I was all covered in water and soap when My Angel came in to tell me that they were out of the house again, this time the woman was beating on the pick-up the guy had been leaning on earlier, apparently trying to break the windshield.
Wonderful. Angel got to talk to 911 this time; I hadn't seen anything from the bath.
So I finished my bath and headed back to the media room, where we could again watch them yell, and be ready to call for help if one of them actually got hurt before the police arrived.
They got to a point where they walking back and forth the length of our house in the street (we're on a corner lot, so they were walking down one street between the street that intersects it and the alley), still yelling. Finally, the man jumped into the vehicle and drove off. I heard a sound that suggests she threw something at it as he drove past her. Finally, she goes to the house and closes the door. At this point, it is starting to get light outside!
Almost an hour after the second call, and roughly a half-hour after the guy left, a police officer finally called. He decided that since I had seen no injuries on the woman and the man was long gone, he didn't have to check things out any further at that time.
So, where were the police all this time? Today's news had the answer--the Mayor of Milwaukee had been to the State Fair, and while he was leaving, heard a cry for help. He came to the rescue of a grandmother, standing between her and the toddler she was with and a drunken man, who was apparently upset because he'd been told he couldn't see his daughter. The Mayor called 911, and stood between the agitated man and the woman with the baby, receiving a number of cuts from some metal object and finally breaking his hand punching the guy. The mayor ended up lying bloody on the street while the drunk guy jumped a fence. So, apparently all the police in the area were hunting this drunk guy who'd already run away from the scene (having no idea he'd assaulted the mayor), and whose identity they knew.
Consequently, the police were ignoring domestic disputes that appeared to be escalating into violence. I'm glad that, as it turned out, we didn't have to call 911 to report a stabbing or gunshot wound!
In other news, my Aunt apparently broke her thigh, not actually the hip, though she still needs surgery to implant a titanium rod into her leg. And my kitchen sink is still not draining, though the laundry tub is.
And though the case isn't done yet, it's closer. Comments on the artwork are welcome, by the way!