Turned Out

There are two pit bulls wrestling out front. Each time they bark, their owners scream at them. There are four adults and nine kids all sprawled out on the dirty sidewalk. The kids are rolling around, drawing with chalk; the adults are sitting in lounge chairs talking and yelling. The Rosie building reminds me of Jacob Riis photographs of NYC tenements except this picture has a distinct and repetitive sound track.

I took a walk with Lily and ran into a woman I know from down the street. She was on her way to pick up her medicine at the CVS in the Stop and Shop plaza. We walked a few blocks together talking about how great it is to have stores within walking distance. We part. I think about how irritating the neighborhood noise has become. I don't want to live in the suburbs or the country, I need the city, but I wish the city dwellers were a bit more considerate.

I came home and opened a can of tuna fish while my cat and dog watched me closely. I threw in a few spoonfuls of freshly cooked kidney beans and a blob of mayo. I turned on the radio. I had forgotten how important classical music is for drowning out street noise and for fending off thoughts of doom and gloom. It works especially well when accompanied by iced coffee.

The sun came out and my neighbors strung their daughter's colorful clothing up to dry. It turned out to be a good day for laundry. The street is quiet now and I am grateful.