Almost everyone used the big TV that was set up for community use. George had scored it from a dead widow’s estate four years earlier and put it in the living room on the new side of the house. One day, it was inexplicably moved from the large room with two couches and a table, to a small room with three couches, two tables, nine chairs, and a cot. Why, nobody knew. It was Gabriella’s idea, and George just went along with it, as usual. She had lectured that everybody likes progress, but nobody likes change, and a little disruption would do everyone some good. Disruption here was the key.
Randy immediately missed watching his old John Wayne oaters early every morning on the Newerish side, in peace and quiet. He woke up at five and it usually gave him a couple of hours alone to do his thing. But now, with the TV on the Legacy side, Geoffrey was there. He was an early bird too, one who thought wine was a great way to start the day, along with stories, jokes, and constant cinematic commentary. By the third day, Randy told him to shut the hell up and the two men stopped talking for a week.
In the evenings, more arguments took place, petty quarrels that had never existed before. This was a time when folks wanted to sit down to watch a movie or two, but now there was noise and nonstop interruption. The flow of people with varying schedules came and went, banging and clanging in the kitchen nearby or firing up the washer that sounded like a wailing jet engine during its forty-five-minute spin cycle. Lulls from the clamor were coveted moments, and fights broke out over whose turn it was to hold the remote. So much for peace and harmony.
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