A man frequently seen around my work site does not understand personal decorum. He is continually making gutteral grunting noises or horking up wads of phlegm from some deep recess in his sinuses. An unfiltered, ceaseless, clangorous affront to all within his wake.
A middle-aged man in line in front of me at Walmart the other day was leaning on his cart bent over at the waist, while he waited his turn at the checkout. In this position his under-sized T-shift rode up, exposing the top half of his hairy rear end and the crusty waistband of his yellowed, threadbare underpants.
The car next to me at the stoplight has its stereo turned up so loud that the whole car shakes and vibrates upon every bass note. Due to my proximity, this unfiltered din completely poisons my environment. Every unfettered reference to African Americans and unsavory female companions seems to get trapped in my car and rattles my calm.
My neighbor lets her small rat-like dog out into their backyard every few hours, where it yap yap yaps at an inescapable frequency. Meanwhile she drags on a cigarette, a constant companion in the crack between her lips. Tendrils of foul smoke curl across the fence, forcing me back indoors.
All part of the peace sapping, sense disturbing, unchecked cacophony.
