I am ON about hate the last 12 hours, lemmetellya. I don’t know why. I just feel all itchy scratchy, and I can’t nail down the reason. Blark. I don’t usually sulk about things, and I’m not predisposed to bouts of rage, but I feel a slow, subterranean stirring of volcanic activity starting to build up steam. It could be deadly. (Or it could be Dinner Theatre.)
So why is the Fink hatin’ on things? I know not. Yet I still offer the list.
- That American Idol is one of the top-rated shows in America.
- Bossy, controlling personalities, shielded behind the paper-thin veil of wanting to be “helpful.”
- Being told to “relax,” or to “calm down.” I mean it. I will roll you up and smoke you like an old Laredo.
- Not knowing.
- Knowing, but not being able to do anything about it.
- Politics, and the discussion of same at social gatherings, because A) it always seems to turn into a fight, which automatically ruins any magic, and B) minds are rarely changed.
- That 5 a.m. turns to 6 a.m. so quickly every day.
- My infuriating proclivity for procrastination where choreography is concerned.
- My infuriating proclivity for freaking out before a freakout is warranted.
- My infuriating proclivities in general.
Sounds to me like you’re due for a list yourself, if for no other reason than you pity me, and misery loves company. And I know that my life is great and I have a fantastic family and I love my job and my students and I am blessed with amazing fiends. But…yeah. We all got our days.