By the Side of the Road

The title comes from a poem. I just don't remember who the author is. It goes, "I want to live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man." This came back to me today as I was sitting in my living room and listening to people gibbering on the sidewalk outside my window.
I live smack in the middle of a small city. The main street is just one block east of me, the police station is two buildings north from me and across the street. There is a municipal parking garage directly in back of my apartment. It is filled with cars during the day and skateboarding halfwits at night. The apartment is called a townhouse....it's nice enough....maintained well and cheap to rent.
The problems with adaption are no doubt my own. It would be a happy day for me if I could just pop a laser cannon out my upstairs window and simply open fire at random. It's not that anyone is doing something terrible to me. It is simply I am sick of hearing their retarded chatter night and day. No one is having an intelligent conversation with anyone else out there, but they are having them right outside my window. I consider pungy stakes and pits, also trip wires and landmines. All these would give me satisfaction.
Issues with anger? Not me. Why would anyone think I was angry? I always used to wonder why old people were so cranky. Now I am 63 I begin to understand. Oh, I am not newly grouchy. I have always been that way. It is just that now I am starting to understand it all.
All those people are given the precious gift of life and youth and they choose to waste it standing on a sidewalk talking trash. I wished I could say I was any different when I was young, but I don't remember that I was.
So, where was I? Yes, I was living in a house by the side of the road being a friend to man, wasn't I? LOL