Not the best way to be remembered
This ought to be the last post about Mr Drunk and Ms Drunker, the former neighbors.
Friday night, our landlady had a party, to which she had invited everyone in our building, plus everyone in the building (not owned by her) in which Drunk and Drunker had lived, and a few other people to celebrate (or commemorate or maybe just commiserate) the leaving of Drunk and Drunker…
It was supposed to involve grilling outside, but just as predicted by the professor of meteorology that I like to listen to on one of the local NPR stations, the rain started right at dinner time. So we were all in the landlady’s apartment.
Our mailman attended, bringing his wife, their little girl, and his inlaws (who are visiting from out of the country). I hadn’t realized how often over the years that Mr Drunk had ambushed the mailman at the mailbox and babbled at him with endless strings of confused questions. The mailman has been enjoying being able to just do his job, say hello to folks who happen to be outside, and get on with the other houses so he can get home on time during the weeks since Drunk & Drunker departed.
The young man who recently moved out of the studio below us came to the party to see everyone and share a few stories.
The owner of the building where Drunk & Drunker used to live only stopped in briefly. Since they’ve gone, he and a crew of contractors have been gutting and repairing the apartment. For the years Mr Drunk lived there, he never correctly used a shower curtain, so the floor and sub-flooring had been soaked and warped to the point that the floor at one end of the bathroom was two inches higher than at the other. And apparently that isn’t the worst thing they’ve discovered.
Various tales of the strangeness, the cluelessness, and sheer annoyance caused by Mr Drunk were shared. Interestingly, more tales of the shady guys that had started hanging out since Ms Drunker became Mr Drunk’s latest roommate were told. Apparently there were, over the course of the last several months, a number of visits by paramedics and police over there which happened while we were out that I’d never heard about.
But really the saddest truth from the whole affair is simply the fact that someone suggested we have a party to celebrate that Drunk & Drunker have moved out. And the rest of us agreed that it was worth commemorating.
What else is there to say?