The bugs produce a ghastly, comforting sound that forces its way into my window, merging with the sounds of a ball bearing being hurled from one side to the other of a can of paint. The scruffy looking guy who lives next to my acquaintances is attempting to cover something hanging on his porch with a can of paint. I didn’t feel inclined to study the object in question long enough to identify it, for doing so might have inadvertadently made the man feel like he should be “friendly” and engage me in pointless trifling conversation. He, like most every…