Fight, fight, fight

I have new neighbors. Living above me is a woman who recently divorced. She has a boyfriend that visits all the time, no seriously, all the time. Last night, I walked the puppy around the block, and upon our arrival home, I find my new neighbors in the middle of a fight. Well, at first I don't realize that it is a fight. I see her run down the stairs, and he follows. He grabs her and holds her against his car. I hear raised voices.

Quickly I think of what I should do. I panic. I have no choice; I have to walk past them to get to my house. It is very close quarters, so I am basically joining their space for a moment. He is ranting about half used boxes of condoms and cigarettes. (Why must people cheat?) How she has forced their business out into the public because she ran outside. Of course, had he just shut up for the few seconds that it took for me to walk past them, I would have never known. Men, however, don't seem to think this way.

Of course, Jade in all her puppy seeing people joy, tries to run up to them. She wiggles, she jumps, she begs for attention as I drag her past. I want to whisper down to her - don't you see it is not a joyful moment? She does not understand why I will not let her visit.

I try not to make eye contact as I walk past, dragging the happy one behind me. But I pause for a moment to silently thank god that I currently have none of that drama in my life. Then I spend the next hour listening to them slam doors above my head.

Lazy Sunday

Sunday afternoon, sitting in a local resturant, switching between watching football, watching the rain and typing away. I am a fish on the move. Little laptop at the ready. I will explorer all the local coffee shops and sports bars. Silently wishing that I had a digital camera at the ready so I could share photos of the more interesting people.