101 Lafayette, Con't

So you can hear the guy in the apartment next to me snoring, but you can’t hear him having sex; that is, you can hear his girlfriend(s) having sex, loud and clear, but not him. Sorry—way too much information. But it got me wondering, riding farther and farther on this train of thought which I wish I didn’t have a ticket to, but, oh well: what does it mean that this guy is, like, happily snoring away like a couple of pigs mudwrestling, and when he has sex, nothing?

O.K. so the thing is that today is the three-week anniversary of me being fired, which means that, after two weeks’ severance, I haven’t gotten paid for a week. Which means—wait, if two goes into three one time, then, tap, tap, tap, divide by—I have to give up my apartment today. I have to send my landlady an email, and tell her that I’m bailing. Which means that, wait—1650 divided by…tap, tap, tap…holy shit—which means that she’s going to be in trouble too: she’s a young social-work student with a three-year-old living out in Queens and I know she’s paying her rent with my rent, etc., etc., etc.

These are the results of our actions. Someday that little boy might have problems with women because my boss had a sudden, unexpected (and noisy) problem with his feelings about me. And the beat goes on.


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