Argus stopped his tugging and turned his annoyed face toward the car. But just as he was about to admonish Emmitt for his blatant disregard for matters of the heart, it occurred to him that flagging old iron appliances around in tall trees wouldn't necessarily translate into romance for everybody. He decided the whole thing might be a little abstract even for his Ruby, and he reached out with his knife and cut the support rope, already working out another approach in his head. The cluster crashed down a few feet from the car, and Emmitt decided this meant Argus didn't need any help. He rolled up his window and eased down around the junkyard, as confounded as ever about his eccentric landlord.
Eccentricity is a wonderful thing.
It allows ordinary mortals like ourselves to rise above worldly constraints and think, for a time, with the whimsy of angels. It's nonsense without remorse. Foolishness with a function. It would be greatly admired if it weren't so darn idiotic most of the time. And the nicest thing about eccentricity is that it's blind to its own shortcomings.