Disturbed this afternoon by Shiny Headed Neighbour ringing my doorbell. He was sloppily drunk (when the dogs surged out to greet him he fell on his arse in the hallway) and panicking because he had locked himself out of his flat. I think he wanted me to invite him in but I'm really unwilling to do that. I went in and utterly failed to find the Tenants' Handbook I was given when I moved in - but I has mad google-fu skillz and managed to find the emergency "halp locked out" phone number online. When I called it for him, I was told they'd already been called and were on their way - in fact, they pulled up in the car park while I was still on the phone.
When I went out later, I cleared away the several variously empty cans of Stella Artois he'd left strewn around the hallway. He'd also left one of his shoes, a puddle of beer and a smell I could have done without, but I ignored those.
Got to One Stop (to buy £1 worth of emergency electricity just to be sure everything doesn't go dead and start melting tomorrow) and my downstairs neighbour's greyhound bitch was outside the store. She was plainly wondering where he'd got to and equally plainly considering wandering off to start looking off her own bat; she was trailing her leash which he hadn't thought to attach to anything. I'd have done it but she's skittish of people not her owner and wouldn't let me near enough.
Her owner was in the checkout queue, nearly as pissed as Shiny Head had been, and he was buying a 24-can case of beer. I mentioned that his dog was wandering about.
Him: "Oh, she knows where she's allowed to go."
Me: "I just worry because there's a main road RIGHT THERE."
Him: *grunting noise* "...murrr tellin' me what to do murr grunt."
Of all the weaknesses and frailties humans are prey to (and fuck knows I have more than my share), drunkenness is the one I have the least patience with, and shit like this is precisely why.