I am not a prick! I said I was sorry I ruined your night!
I overheard a couple of the neighbors arguing today. Their voices penetrated like wind into the back stairwell as I made my way down to the laundry room, a large ball of clothes held against my chest. Naturally, I paused for a few moments and listened until I realized both that their dispute was none of my business and that if one of them happened to open their back door they would find me standing there outside their apartment in the dark... in the silence... in the cold. I do not have many fears, but one of them is awkwardness.
For a brief moment I absurdly contemplated turning around and going back upstairs.
Drawing on great bravery as well as a need for clean pants I proceeded lightly on the steps, partially to avoid twisting an ankle in the dark, but mostly to stifle the usual rumble I produce when descending the stairs. In so doing I wondered why I felt compelled to be silent. It wasn't a fear that I would get caught attempting to do laundry. In an odd way I felt that if my presence were detected they might feel I was imposing, or that someone was getting access to a part of their life that they did not intend. Arguing is a private sport. Spectators are for debates.
I don't know them well but we've hung out a few times over the past year. Played cornhole a couple of times with the guy. Helped with some furniture. They once had a party with an inflatable kiddie pool in the backyard, around which people lounged, soaking their feet and drinking beer, myself included. The water was cool and had pieces of grass and red plastic cups floating in it. The girl promised to get me stoned when her sister came to visit, whom she described as 'granola'. They're good people. They seem to care for each other. They recycle.
When I got to the laundry room their voices were even louder and clearer. Seems floors are thinner than walls in 100-year-old four-flats. Though I had pledged to tune them out, doing so is like promising to ignore the murderous clown staring at you from behind your closet door. Mostly it was him yelling, defensively and reluctantly apologizing for some weekend crime that involved him falling asleep... and him not knowing how not to disappoint her. She shouted back, matching his tone and volume. I should remember more detail than I do, but the one gem I do remember was him shouting, "I am not a prick! I said I was sorry I ruined your night!" I couldn't quite get the narrative down... and for that I'll have to earn my eavesdropping merit badge some other time.
It was pretty vanilla relationship stuff, but it was the stuff of relationships. People have misunderstandings, they ruin each others' night sometimes, they fight about it and then they makeup and have above-average sex.
When I got back upstairs, my apartment seemed a little emptier, a little quieter.
For a brief moment I absurdly contemplated turning around and going back upstairs.
Drawing on great bravery as well as a need for clean pants I proceeded lightly on the steps, partially to avoid twisting an ankle in the dark, but mostly to stifle the usual rumble I produce when descending the stairs. In so doing I wondered why I felt compelled to be silent. It wasn't a fear that I would get caught attempting to do laundry. In an odd way I felt that if my presence were detected they might feel I was imposing, or that someone was getting access to a part of their life that they did not intend. Arguing is a private sport. Spectators are for debates.
I don't know them well but we've hung out a few times over the past year. Played cornhole a couple of times with the guy. Helped with some furniture. They once had a party with an inflatable kiddie pool in the backyard, around which people lounged, soaking their feet and drinking beer, myself included. The water was cool and had pieces of grass and red plastic cups floating in it. The girl promised to get me stoned when her sister came to visit, whom she described as 'granola'. They're good people. They seem to care for each other. They recycle.
When I got to the laundry room their voices were even louder and clearer. Seems floors are thinner than walls in 100-year-old four-flats. Though I had pledged to tune them out, doing so is like promising to ignore the murderous clown staring at you from behind your closet door. Mostly it was him yelling, defensively and reluctantly apologizing for some weekend crime that involved him falling asleep... and him not knowing how not to disappoint her. She shouted back, matching his tone and volume. I should remember more detail than I do, but the one gem I do remember was him shouting, "I am not a prick! I said I was sorry I ruined your night!" I couldn't quite get the narrative down... and for that I'll have to earn my eavesdropping merit badge some other time.
It was pretty vanilla relationship stuff, but it was the stuff of relationships. People have misunderstandings, they ruin each others' night sometimes, they fight about it and then they makeup and have above-average sex.
When I got back upstairs, my apartment seemed a little emptier, a little quieter.
posted by ET @ 6:00 PM
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