Now, I'm just angry.
I got into, or rather initiated, a conversational debate last night and this morning.
So one guy smartly asked of me (10:00 a.m.), "How did I pay for my computer?". So I told him.
That is I only told less than half of that story. Like never talking about when watching my doggie dog being run over and flopping dead under the wheels for another 20 feet or so. Who then scowls at a wee kindergartener saying, "Quit your bawling, your dog's dead". Heartless bastard never came around a few days or weeks later with, (I don't know) maybe, a new kittycat or doggie or even to have just said sorry.
So now I'm just stewing here for the rest of this day. When and if a man slips to only fixating of various times of being jerked around, disappointed, or screwed over... that aint so good. Many years and a lot of people have gotten different giggles and inconsiderate righteousnesses off of me.
Hmm. Don't let me learn the brandname of a car dealing neighbour's street parked automobile. Because it was only when the other unsuspecting driver angled back in that its headlights then startled my doggie.
"How did I pay for my computer?" (from a workplace that - so many years later - had a very same doggie walking about its entrance way. And it always shimmered away at my presence. Because it knew of death, and my guilt of not having called out soon or loud enough.) ...