One good deed…

I live two blocks from a major university, in a front-facing ground-floor apartment on a street that alternates apartment buildings with fraternity and sorority houses.

Usually, when people visit, the first thing they ask about is all the frat and sorority houses.  “Isn’t it loud and violent and annoying and disruptive and messy?” they ask.

And I usually reply, “Eh, it’s not so bad.”  And, really, almost all the time, it’s not.  It’s just that on those occasions when it does suck to live on this street, it sucks a lot.  I’m definitely awakened by a disproportionate number of fire trucks.  I’ve seen more fights outside my window here than through any other window I’ve ever had.  And, wow, I just leave on game days; there’s no point in even trying to be around here.

So, this afternoon when I heard cheering and air horns, I didn’t think much of it.  It’s rush week; the greeks are busy.  Whatevs.

Then a dozen topless women with letters painted on their tummies ran down the street past my window.

Sometimes it’s really, really hard not to love the things that hurt you.

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