The Godfather, as K. and I affectionately refer to him as, is outside dancing in the parking lot right now. Our other neighbor has his Mustang doors propped open, his trunk hoisted, and is toiling around beneath the hood while Spanish and Cuban music blares at decibels so high the windows inside my apartment are shaking. The Godfather is dancing nearby in the parking lot--swaying himself in circles beneath the morning sun. Sounds picturesque in odd way, doesn't it? And all this craziness is occurring before 8:30 in the morning.
Dance, Godfather, dance!