marydell: (charlie-sillybandz)
1. Little boy, I am sympathetic to your fear of elevators and your declaring the crowded-n-dank elevators in this particular parking garage "too scaawy." I am so sympathetic to this that I don't mind walking up one flight of stairs with you and then pushing your stroller up an additional three floors of parking ramp, although my butt muscles definitely do mind. However, complaining during our climb that you want to go faster and get to the car sooner is SIMPLY NOT ON.

2. Lady in stairwell, I am sympathetic to your wanting to walk faster than a distracted 3-year-old when going up a crowded stair with lots of people behind us. I think passing us on the left is completely appropriate, which is why I made encouraging motions to all behind me to do precisely that. However, deciding that the lady on the left is also too slow, weaving around her between me and my child, and in the process sideswiping said child? Will result in a polite request from me of "how about you try not to knock my kid down the stairs, okay?" And MUCH ILL WILL, you freaking speed freak. (Fortunately he has the mass of a small planet at this point, so he kept his footing)
marydell: My hand holding a medusa head sculpture (by me) that's missing its snakes (Default)
When I was a kid I used to leave my bike unlocked, until brother #4 decided to teach me a valuable lesson about security, since we lived in a very stealy neighborhood.  He taught me this lesson by stealing my bike and refusing to give it back for a week. 

There was a guy at the CVS counter in front of me who was being slow this morning.  Nothing unusual there; I am hyper, hence, everyone is slow in my eyes.  (He was slow enough that another cashier opened up though, so I jumped to her)  He was also talking to the cashier about how there was no place to park, indicating that he's not a regular in these parts, since the CVS is in a building with a parking garage. (He probably expected free parking--another indication that he's not a regular in this neighborhood).  Then he went to pay for his stuff, which came to about 6 bucks.  He pulled out a huge pile of cash and fanned it out, showing a heap of 20s and a few 50s, before slowly picking a bill to give the cashier.  At this point I was already on my way out the door, having finished my purchase.

Part of me really felt that the proper thing to do would be to lie in wait for the guy and roll him for his cash, just to, you know, teach him a valuable lesson about security.

April 2013

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