his pruned old hands went grudgingly back to the clackity-clack'n of the dusty keyboard; mad - even more so than before - because now the bitter clanks of dishes falling to rest, to dry, in the dish rack, in a routine and organized, but forceful manner, ironically echoed in his own ears. His intenion was indeed to disturb the peace of all others around him...all the offenders. Slobs.

He continued to write with fervor and slammed home the keys with great relief.