Open the Window, There’s a Fight

**ring, ring**

Me:  Hello?

Ismael: There’s a fight.  Open the window if you want to hear it. (laughter ensues).

This, dear Internet, is one of the MANY reasons I love my husband.

I pause Dancing with the Stars – Donny Osmond in mid cheesy grin – and scurry to open the bedroom window.  I can’t see the people fighting, but can sure hear them.  She was PISSED.  She was so angry that I couldn’t even discern any words, but could hear the FURY in her words.

My husband?  Was leaning against the car, grinning and watching the parked truck, its occupants and the scorned woman go at it.  He loves a good show.  Especially if he is not on the receiving end of it.

After the novelty wore off, and I began to worry about this escalating into something less fun and more nasty, I got the phone to call the “courtesy officer,” and get this halted.

In the meantime, the truck left and the woman and her friends continued to scream injustice on the sidewalk for a time and then their voices finally faded.

Ismael?  Still outside waiting for round two when the police cruisers showed up looking for our noisy neighbors.

I had long since lost interest and freed Donny from his DVR induced frozen theatrics and gotten back to the important business of reality show watching.

“What was the fight about?” I asked Ismael when he finally came inside.

“The guy in the truck got caught with his new girlfriend by his old girlfriend.  Can’t have two girlfriends.”  *snicker, snicker*

Keep that in mind, buddy.

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