Because....(wait for it).....IT'S MY LANE!!!!!!

Keep your scruffy potboiler beanbag bucket of bolts out of my lane!!!!! I'm trying to drive here!!!

GAH!!!!!!!!!!

Why can't I just make a statement and that's it? Why do I have to explain all the time to everyone, everything I decide?
I don't have many people in my life and I thought that one of the few benefits of that was NOT having to account for everything to everyone in great detail. NOOOOO!!! Somebody's always asking me WHY. Maybe they mean well. But it doesn't matter. I'm an adult. I know what I'm doing and I know what I've done. I don't ask YOU for explanations all the time. Stop asking me!

AND:

I'm not going to sell the house. I LIVE here! STOP asking me! STOP putting crap in my mailbox telling me how much you want to help me out by buying my house. BACK OFF!

*whew*

If someone gives you something nice, show some response. Say thank you. Write a thank you note. Tell the person how you'll use the thing. Later, after the giving, let the person know that the thing is appreciated by telling how it's changed your life. If it's something silly and inconsequential, that doesn't let you off the politeness hook. You still have to respond. Select at least one of these things-- don't be an ass.

If you hated the gift, tough. Be an adult. Pretend to be happy. Show gratitude even if you don't like it too much.

Why?

Because people are delicate and trusting and vulnerable, and the world is a hurtful place sometimes, and if you neglect this easy little bit of politeness, you contribute to the level of injury.

Don't believe it?

Fine. Wait'll the next time you want to make someone happy, and that selfish someone takes the gift from you, and then blows you off.

See how YOU feel.

Because I WILL walk away.
There are people (I'm assuming they're people, but who knows, given the kinds of computers now available....) who are just rude. Here. On Vox.

I suspect that they don't see it that way. They may not realize that anyone sees it that way. But their behavior occasionally annoys me to the point of cutting them off.

What's sad (to me) is that they probably won't even notice they've been cut off.

These are the few people whom I've visited regularly, even when I wasn't really interested in the contents of their posts, who have visited me less and less, and who have been nasty when they did. I think they think they're being cute or witty. And I respect that silly opinion. So I don't snark back.

I try to maintain cordiality. But they go on adding neighbors and stop visiting me. I obviously have little to offer them, and to be honest, they aren't all that fascinating, either.

So that's OK. I don't plan to  be ignored forever. At some point I will stop trying.

Their loss.

There should be tiny coloring-in-the-lines tests within the various states' driving tests, to see if the applicants understand the concept of driving inside their own lanes. I'm sick of people drifting into my lane and endangering me.

STOP DRIVING IN MY LANE, you dolts!!!

Show us what Memorial Day means to you.

One of many.  Do we really need more?

Tomorrow is Memorial Day in the United States. People may use the day off to picnic and put boats in the water, and party, and shop at Memorial Day Blow-Out Sales, but the day itself was intended to remember and honor the men and women who DIED in service of the their country.

So PLEASE stop wishing me a HAPPY Memorial Day. You're allowed; it's your right. But it's thoughtless and silly.

Back in the produce place. It's tiny - little rooms, very crowded. Actually an old house, very small. I had my hands full of vegetables in those thin plastic bags -- heavy vegetables, some giant sweet potatoes etc., you know?  Tried to get near the checkout area and each time I stepped forward, a large person got in front of me. She was very large, which wouldn't be a problem, except that she was with a very large man. And a very large child. And she was very pregnant. And moving slowly. And the very large child was ignoring her suggestions to move.  For some reason, this trio stood and moved three across. Not in a line like everyone else I've every seen in that place - and I've been going there since I was a little kid. There isn't sufficient room to move in tandem, like a drill team.

The little kid moved slowly too.

I'm not small. And I've been bigger. It wasn't their size. It was their selfish retention of space, when other people -- not just me! - needed to share it.

I should have said something. But what? "Excuse me, please" wasn't working. Unless they were deaf (and they clearly weren't) or had mobility problems (which they clearly didn't), they were being physically rude.

I hope they decide to shop someplace else. Next time I may not be so nice.

OK, this is a very specific complaint. And I'm yelling it now, the way I yelled it (in my car) right after the whole thing happened.

If you're going to bring eight children, who are all young enough to be under four feet tall, to a SMALL produce market, and let them run free to knock over plants and bite into apples, and shriek, and hit me in the back and hip (yes: HIT -- not bump) as they run by, then be prepared to hear me yell. They scared me. They came up behind me and scared me. One of them smacked me in the back, and the other hit my hip. No, it didn't hurt. They're little enough to be fairly harmless, smacking-wise. But it scared me. They came up behind me. I HEARD them, but never thought they'd hit me!

And when I turned around, startled, and yelled, YOU, the parents/caregivers/whatevers, told me to go to hell.

Don't do that.

I mean it. Your rugrats asked for it.

Your little anklebiters are lucky they hit me and not someone who hits back.

Next time, how about trying leashes?
 

My hearing is fine. It's more than fine. It's dandy.

I'm doing a stint as a temporary office worker for the next month -- answering phones, etc., for a group of lawyers. It's bad enough when the people who call the office speak in riddles ("Hello? Are you who I talked to yesterday? Isn't this the Walmart? I wanted to buy that mower that's on sale.") or in machine gun spurts ("Setomtomd! Jjtjtjgjfj, yk?") and the words are unintelligible or meaningless. But the WORST thing is the people who are talking too far away from the microphones on their phones. Or who just aren't talking loudly enough.

Damn.

Then they get pissy when I try to repeat their names, and get them wrong. I'm sorry Mr. Smithbridge, that I called you Melissa Rutledge, when I asked you what your phone number was. You do have a high voice, you know? AND IT'S BARELY AUDIBLE!!

OK, I'm outta here. Don't call me at home. I'm not answering the @#&*ing phone.