I love:  not much today.  It’s been a yucky day.

• There is bird plop on my car and it won’t rain.
• I drove all the way to the rink this morning and had to come all the way back and get my wallet
• I stepped out on the ice with my skate guards on.  FAIL.
  

  Like this, only without the stairs.

• I forgot my paper and had to go back out when I really didn’t want to.
• A drop of smoking hot glue burned my finger severely while I struggled to kitbash a couple of nasty luan plywood dollhouses into something vaguely resembling a shop.
• I did not enjoy my dinner.
• Tomorrow is Monday.

On the bright side, I ordered a book from Amazon called Decorative Dollhouses, by Caroline Hamilton.  I’ve checked it out of the library numerous times, and extra copies never show up in the biannual sale.  Amazon had it for less than five bucks including shipping. It was supposed to show up Monday but I got it Saturday.  Happy happy joy joy.

It’s hard to keep this guy down.

———–

I hate:  you.

Yes, you.  You know who you are.  You’re out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to annoy me.  Soon you’ll be in front of me on the road, putt-putting along like you have all day.

You’ll be filling out an application next to me, and bragging on your vast experience, trying to intimidate me.

You’ll take the last muffin on the breakfast buffet as you see me reaching for it.

You’ll cut in front of me at the store, with the lofty excuse “I have a child,” even though said child is nowhere in evidence.

You’ll put your junk right on top of mine at the skating rink, even though it was there first, like it doesn’t exist.  Like I don’t exist.

You’ll ignore me when I want to talk to you, turn away when I need you, save the best of yourself for someone else, take what I give you and return nothing.

You’ll criticize my appearance, my work, my hobbies, my choices, and my life.  You won’t always do it out loud, but your look tells all.

You.

Perhaps hate is too strong a word.  I strive for indifference to you.  Unfortunately, we’re both human.  So I should thank you for giving me something I can use.  And you will be immortalized in a well-crafted scene, and when people read it, they’ll think to themselves, “What a jerk!”