Guess I’ll Have to Live With It

God forgive me. I’m a man with soul lost. I betrayed tonight all resolve I spent years in the construction thereof. I like to believe that I have successfully cast off the anger and malice that I so genuinely and profoundly have felt for my fellow man in the past. It was an undertaking of no small endeavor. I was brought to the apogee of realization by the undeniable admission that I was solely responsible for the failure of two marriages and God knows how many social relationships. The employment relationships will remain debatable on the grounds that I am unwilling to admit fault in some and honestly I might be wrong.

Tonight I shamed myself. I attacked my landlord for reasons that have been building, that I was not totally at fault for and I’m not yet willing to disclose. Suffice to say tensions have been building and some I own, some I do not. When living in close quarters with someone, it is difficult in the extreme to make things run smoothly especially if you are two judgmental pricks with concrete ideas on, not only how the world should be run, but also how that world should operate in accordance to what is owed you. We had a blow-out of biblical proportions.

My landlord (I’ll call him Larry) took offense to criticisms that I’d made regarding his seeming inability to adhere to anything even close to healthy and livable standards of cleanliness. While I tend to be a bit anal about cleanliness in the kitchen, especially having worked in the food prep industry for the last four years of my working life, Larry is on the far end of the spectrum making him, aptly put, un-anal. The filth this man can create, and leave, in a twenty four hour period is, well, let’s just say, if there where an Olympic event for such things, Larry would take the gold every time. Now keep in mind that the cleanliness thing was only the tip of the iceberg and what lay beneath the surface really doesn’t merit mention for the telling of this story.

The situation escalated and came to a head in the kitchen and my elaboration about how I’d requested such a simple consideration as keeping his filth build-up out of one side of the double sink so that I could wash MY dishes PLUS whatever pots and pans that he’d left dirty so that I could use them for my own food preparation, erupted in him taking a pile of dirty dishes and throwing them back into the side of the sink I’d just cleared out.

Now, I had been washing a dirty sauce pan and stepped back with it still in my hand while Larry had his little hissy-fit and upon its conclusion we were in juxtaposition face to face screaming epithets that would wither fresh vegetables. He dared me to throw the first punch and I did the same. Twenty years ago, somebody would have gotten hit. I guess I’m happy to say that cooler heads prevailed, but for a split second I know that both of us were weighing the personal satisfaction of executing that all-important first blow against the legal ramifications. I know for my part, Larry came dangerously close to having his temple stove in by a sizable sauce pan.

We have since worked things out. Nobody took a beating and my resolve for controlling a volatile temper remains intact. But I’ll be spending time in perdition for savoring the idea of the satisfying “thunk” of that saucepan going upside Larry’s head. Guess I’ll have to live with that.

Guess I’ll Have to Live With It

George Yesthal

Brodheadsville, United States

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