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OH, DEAR READER, THIS MORNING I HAD CAUSE TO stop and consider my greediness --how it is that I don't wish to give away even one tiny increment of my time if I feel that it is going for naught. And then, if I'm forced to give, I fantasize about throwing a tantrum. About stomping. About fussing. I think about yelling, "Hey, chop-chop, get the lead out!"
"Did you notice who got here first?!" I think of squawking to employees of big box stores as they dawdle and take phone calls, and service a string of walk-up-later customers while attending to my order.



"DO IT. JUST DO IT, ALREADY! SHOULD IT TAKE A WHOLE HALF-HOUR," I want to roar, "to cut two little pieces of tile!?"

Ah, yes, I thought of roaring. I relished the idea. I was smiling patiently and murmuring, "That's okay." But inside was a great big roar.
That is my confession for the day, Dear Reader. Now you know.



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