Thursday, it turns out, there was a double murder two blocks from here. Apparently, it was the result of a drug deal gone wrong. As I'm not involved in any drug deals, I don't feel too threatened, but it is a bit alarming. Also it was in a house where Margaret and her husband once lived, decades back though as I understand it. A nice-looking house still, probably nicer looking than this one; it has also been subdivided into two apartments, so not quite like Margaret remembered it.
To be honest, I've wanted to move out of here since I moved in, not because it's a dangerous neighborhood (it isn't) but because of the trains impeding navigation and seven home football games a year eating seven Saturdays. I can't say that having a murder two blocks away makes me any more inclined to move. As has been pointed out to me, it can happen anywhere. It does, however, give me a ready-made excuse if I decide to go. I think it was more scarring for Margaret than for me. We're all very relieved that the rocket-scientist perpetrator is in custody thanks to whacking into numerous cars on the Interstate. A criminal genius, he is.
I did go get the expensive vacuum yesterday; I will endeavor to blither about this tomorrow.
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