My friends, it is long past time for me to have a small vacation. I can tell, because I’m getting subway rage. Anyone who cuts in front of me, slops over into my seat, steps on my foot, or smells bad runs the risk of getting my pointy little freckled elbow right in their eyeball. That’s just about everyone, FYI.
I don’t want to talk to strangers — not even cab drivers or laundromat attendants, people I usually find quite entertaining. I do not care what they did back in Haiti. I’m sorry that life has been difficult lately. Still, I do not wish to hear about their ungrateful children.
If you have a stroller, you should learn how to jog with it or get out of my way. If you are in front of me on line, you should move forward immediately as soon as the person in front of you moves up. If you are looking for an address, you should move out of the middle of the sidewalk. If you do not, well, here comes the elbow again.
Saturday, I will be going to the Cape with Ma and Pa Smash, Mrs. Piddlington and the LT (Mr. Piddlington, who is actually a Captain, but “the LT” is more fun to say). We will sit on the beach. We will eat fried foods. We will read books and not pester each other while we are reading books — unlike, say the laundromat attendant this evening, who felt that I was reading out of boredom, and would love to hear about her kids.
The origins of this tirade, I hope, are now clear. I cannot wait for vacation!