[Monroe looks relieved for a moment before dropping his head and shaking it. At least he doesn't have to figure out how to explain that part. So instead of explaining that part Monroe going into a full babbling mode, letting himself get more riled up with every word.]

What exactly am I supposed to do with this man? I'm a clock maker. I mean I normally like the ticking but it's way to much to handle and the guy next door keeps blowing this whistle that sounds like nails on a caulk board and the traffic. Do you have any idea how loud a diesel truck is? There's just too damn much.

[Which is saying a lot since he lives on a pretty quiet street.]