The Benefit of the Doubt

I'm not really sure where to start.  I guess the best way to learn the Slomanic language is through immersion.  Yes, it's mostly English, but give me the benefit of the doubt until you learn the dialect please. 

Seriously? I expect people who don't even know me to give me the benefit of the doubt?  Burt knows me better than anyone and I can't even get the benefit of the doubt from him.  Infuriating.  I will be the first to admit that I do crazy things that polite society may find questionable but I always have a good reason.  Like the time I brought home a drunk guy and put him on the couch.  He had been staggering down the middle of a four lane highway and I needed him to show up to work the next day.  What was I supposed to do?

And then about a week ago, Burt was trying to bring in the groceries.  I told him he had to leave a specific bag behind because I was trying to deliver it tosomepeopleI'mprettysurewerehomelessthatIsawinaparkinglot. (Speak quickly and unclearly to avoid the, "HUH?" and inevitable explanation.) But he had already had his coffee and caught every word.  Shockingly, Burt said, "I get it.  I didn't used to.  And then I was talking to that guy (a lovely older gentleman that has lost two wives and seems to be lonely) and something kept telling me to have him over.  I don't know why, but we're going to."

Number 1  Burt doesn't talk to people.  He has very little interest in having friends.  They're nice and all but he just doesn't have the time or outgoing personality.
Number 2  He made the jump from me carrying groceries on a hunch to him having been approached for a reason, even if he didn't understand the reason.

So, now that I get the benefit of the doubt, I have to give it back.  I will have that lovely gentleman over for dinner even if I'm a little creeped out.  But the day I find a drunk woman on my couch, somebody better remind me about all of this.