In the musical Scrooge, before he meets the three ghosts who change his life, Scrooge bellows out in song, loud and clear: "I hate people, and I don't care if they hate me."
I know exactly what he means. I'm not a big fan, either. Well, not this week, anyway.
Maybe it's the onslaught of snow we've had the past couple of weeks and being held captive, but as of now, anything standing upright with a pulse is getting on my nerves...BIGTIME!
This is a problem because at work I have to be nice to people and have a smile on my face and joy in my voice. It's not much better on the homefront. We live in a big old renovated warehouse with lots of open space, but not many doors. No matter where I'm located, no matter how hard I try to eek out a little space for myself, there is always someone around me. My daughter is the only one with an escape. Her bedroom actually has a door.
I actually asked my husband recently why we couldn't put a door on the bathroom in our bedroom.
"That would take away from the suite-like feel of the room," he said.
I was sitting on the toilet at the time, thinking some privacy would be nice.
When I was young and didn't know any better, it was so much easier to put up with other people. I was stupid and happy, and had the same easy-going attitude as a Golden Retriever puppy. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when people started to piss me off, but now I'm old and cynical and it takes every ounce of my patience and willpower to not reach out and grab someone by their ears and throttle them around.
It would be so theraputic, but I'm not willing to risk the assault charges it would most likely bring.
Maybe what I need is a punching bag. I could put it in the garage and anytime I felt the need to whallop the crap out of someone head down there and spend some quality time pounding the leather.
I feel better already.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment