The Exculpatory Journal

As the season of spring matures, our days grow longer and our nights get warmer.  Staying comfortable, we open our windows and let the evening breezes into our abode to draw out the accumulated heat of the day.  Typically, this is a pleasant ritual.  Lately, however, opening our windows incurs a drawback.

Our good buddy Karaoke Steve, also wishing to benefit from the nightly drop in temperature, opens all of his doors and widows every night.  Unfortunately, Steve also partakes of the fermented beverage every night.  Once fully sauced, he proceeds into criticizing his live-in lady friend.  At least, I assume it is criticism.  All Claire and I can make out is the lady friend’s name and the onslaught of profanity.

Trying not to let the whole evening go to waste.  I decided to take our young Sean out for a stroll.  In my heart of hearts, I hoped that Steve would continue on with his blue streak and ignore our passing by.  Wrong.  “Holy shit!  Damn it!  Here comes exculpatory!  Way to go [lady friend]!”  Ulugh, I put on a game face.

“Hello Steve.  Are you doin’ alright?”

“Ya, ya.  I’m doin’ okay. Howabuut you doin’?”  It is quite obvious he’d been drinking.

“I’m okay.  Just taking Sean out for a walk while the weather is nice.  Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“Ya its juss thaa [mumble something mumble], you know? Man-woman stuff.”  Too drunk to stand without swaying, Steve decided that he’d lean up against the gate for support and rest his chin on the top rail.  “You can prob-blee can hear… well, you can hear, ya?’”

“Yes, we can hear you.  Wait. I take that back.  We can’t hear you’re talking about.  All we can hear is the profanity.”  Steve continued mumbling inaudibly, so I leaned in to ask “Steve, have you been drinking?”

“Ya.  Ya, I’ve been drinking.”

“Ya, well, the thing is: I can’t understand anything you’re staying.  You’re slurring your words.”

“Well, I, it doesn’t matter that I’ve been drinking, see, because I’ve got the papers.  You know, the paperwork.”  He muttered on about a roof or faucet leak, and maybe something about another neighbor.  To be honest, though, I couldn’t make out what the hell he was saying.

“Look, Steve, I really can’t understand you.  I’m just going to take Sean out for a walk while there is still some light left.  You just calm down, relax, and we’ll talk when you’ve sobered up some, okay?”

After some more boasting about “the paperwork” to my back he finally went inside.

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There are a lot of advantages to living where we live.  We’re close to family.  We’ve made friends. I’m damn close to work.  People here are not caught up in fads or fashions.  Generally, we’re comfortable.  However, there is a price to pay.

While shopping today, I saw one of the high executives from work.  Naturally, he wouldn’t recognize me as the “inner party” does not often deal with the “outer party.”  Like myself, he was out shopping with “the proles” and he dressed the part.  Typically, this man is immaculate.  Three piece suit, lapel button, the little handkerchief-in-the-pocket thing, the works.  He commands all the respect he’s earned and deserves simply with the look of his presence.  Today, however, he was wearing clothes that I wouldn’t consider good enough to wear for painting.  As I passed by, I said “Hello,” and he said “Hi.”  Oddly, when he responded, it was as though he was a little embarrassed.  Perhaps he did recognize me.

That’s the price.  He needs to dress down to live here.  I need to tolerate crazy neighbors.  Still, we both chose to be here.  The benefits outweigh the costs.  I mean, everybody has these problems everywhere, right?

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Steve just told his lady friend to “Shut the fuck up!”  I guess the calm of our little talk wore off.