McMansion, I get it.

The larger Hooligan is making a large batch of chocolate chip cookies.  I provided him with a recipe,  ingredients, and an apron (which he eschewed).  Then I fled the scene.  He is playing Led Zepplin at a very high volume.  I barely heard one crashing breaking sound and one "Oh Shit!" over the throbbing bass and yowling lyrics. I am sure this is exactly how he feels when I am cooking and playing La Traviotta.  I am lurking in the farthest corner of my house and wishing I had a much larger house.  Perhaps one with a completely separate guest apartment.  One of us could live there.