At 7 years old I realized that I was easily frustrated with inanimate objects. Anything that I should’ve had control over but didn’t made me infuriated and my little red face clashed with my hair.
I remember yelling at the doll that wouldn’t sit up straight and my mother saying “don’t let the toys win, Sarah” and of course that would only make me more mad.
Now I’m making beds and cleaning showers in an attempt to cheaply pass the time in Scotland and I’ve had to repeat my mothers words countless times. Take the sheets, for example, the fitted sheet seems to be neither a single nor a double but it is far to large for the single bed and just the smallest bit to small for the double bed. And it’s the smallest bit that gets me. Three corners on and then the fourth one just refuses to work. Finally I get it only to see that one of the other corners has popped off the mattress. That absolutely drives me crazy; so much, in fact, that I fully intend to buy all my sheets a size larger than needed in order to save the stress I am experiencing now.
Showers are disgusting and I never ever ever want to clean another one as long as I live. I wipe the hair away and two more appear. It’s awful and so annoying. I still have two weeks to be excited about it and then never again. Yuck.
What else do I get frustrated with? … Oh yeah, people who ask me a question and as soon as I start to give an answer they agree and begin talking again. Like, what did they agree to? I didn’t get to say anything!!
I blame my insensitive thoughts towards people on my red hair and the fact that I’m in Scotland. It’s almost expected of me to be short tempered. Ironically, I’m working in customer service so short temperedness is a no go.
Which reminds me! The other night there was this big snarly fellow in and he was as unpleasant as big snarly fellows get. He came into the bar and started drinking with some of the other guys. They were all in their 50s or 60s and yet they were making incredibly crude jokes to and about my coworker and I. I was getting really fed up with it but not saying anything and then the mean one said in his big Scottish brogue “are you gonna go back home and miss us?” I threw my chin in the air and stated “No. We have old creepy men in Canada too.” And then I stared at him as he tried to recover from nearly choking on his beer. His friends were laughing and so I faked the smile and played it off as the smartmouthing bartender, all while mentally calling him the worst names I could remember from all my pirate books. “Insolent, arrogant, cad! Begone with your filth.”
Unfortunately, as much as I dislike these drunk old men, in 40 years I’ll
probably be sitting in a bar with my generation of grumpy old men and no one will be able to tell that I’m not one of them…..
I went for a run today, climbed up a cliff because I wanted to, climbed down the cliff because I had to, ran back, and started making a healthy, delicious chicken salad. Waiting for the chicken I cook, I ate half a bag of caramel popcorn which I also ate after the salad. Now I’m finishing a pack of mentos. Seriously, I am the absolute worst fitness attempter. On the other hand, maybe I’m the best because At least I’m burning about as much as I eat. Maybe not. I eat a lot. I just love food.
Okay. Mentos are gone now. That’s a headache in 10 minutes.
I let everything win. Not just the toys. It’s the food, the snacks, the little kids when we play games….
Okie dokie. Well, this was yet another unproductive post that went absolutely nowhere; however, it is a post. So that’s something.
Good sunny afternoon world! If you’re reading this, I probably miss you!
All my carbs,