After One Dispute, Another

I may as well note that the grocery store strike I was so afraid of yesterday did not materialize, and a new labor deal appears to have been agreed upon. At such times I am less relieved about dodging a bullet and more angry at the notion that maybe I was meant to be scared into submission or compliance. In any case, that's over, and I can write about something less freighted with negative feelings and more fun. It's lucky that just such a thing came up.

I had just gotten home relatively late. One roommate and I were talking, and being considerate of our third roommate, we were talking as softly as we have ever managed. I was starting to wash a pot in order to cook something. A faint noise got my interlocutor's attention, and he went to the balcony to figure out what it was. Moments later, the other roommate emerged from his room (and, I assume, his slumber) to also investigate. They both went out to the balcony.

There I was in my socks washing a pot. I didn't want to be left out. I had to know what it was also. How was I to do it, though? First I wiped my soapy hands off on my jeans. I got to the edge of the living room when I decided I didn't want to dirty my socks. I went over to step into my loafers. That's when I returned to the balcony to see. It was a whole pack (if that's what you call it) of raccoons on the other side of the fence from our parking garage.

They were in one giant fight amongst themselves. From the racket, one would think that fatalities were inevitable, but the scrap seemed to conclude as peacefully as could be expected. It really was a lot of noise, drawing our good friends downstairs out to the balcony in addition to others whose units were on that side of the building. We in my unit joked about sharing the story with our grandchildren, or rather I should say one roommate and I joked about each vying for the affections of my grandchildren with the same story. I hope I win out.