When I got into work this morning, my landlord was fixing the sinks. I apologized, he apologized, we commiserated about how hard it is to be small business owners: property taxes, sidewalks, the whole thing.

He said “You seem so sweet, but my god you have a temper.” I said it was awful, I know.

He said he was excited for the chocolate shop, and sad to see me go, even though sometimes I’m a pain. And then he mopped my entire kitchen floor, and I gave him some bunnies and matzo toffee for his kids.

And now the festival of rage has drained from my body and all I want to do is hibernate until I’m a sane person again. Sometimes my rage feels like a twin who lives in my shadow, threatening to appear at any moment. She appears to be done for the day, leaving only pure exhaustion. My body has that light, endless feeling. This bout of rage was particularly painful, and I’m particularly happy it appears to be over.

But, the glory and guts of being a small business owner is that none of that matters.

Four hours until the PO closes.

Back to work.

Thanks for being so sweet in my time of need, blog friends.




2 Responses to “today”

  1. Dustin Rhodes

    A couple of months ago, I was asked to speak about animal rights at a peace conference; it’s happening in two weeks. I have never been to said peace conference, and don’t know much about it. So, I wrote an e-mail asking some specific questions–basically wondering out loud how I could make my talk interesting to the audience (except that my questions were extremely straight-forward).

    No answer.

    I write another couple of e-mails; I am directing them at everyone I’ve had contact with, which is several people. No response.

    I must point out: these are not long winded diatribes, full of impossible questions. I am asking: how many people go to your conference? How many people should I expect at a workshop? Have there ever been animal rights workshops before? Basic stuff like that.

    Deafening silence.

    Yesterday I sent an explosive e-mail–basically pointing out their lack of professionalism; and, of course, I had to make it extra biting, even though that’s not at all my style. And you know what? I received an e-mail within 10 minutes. Today, I have received two. They are apologetic: all, “OMG, we’re so sorry!”

    What pisses me off is that I already KNEW this is what people respond to–the kind of rage that I see as pointless and harmful, to both myself and others. It disgusts me that I have to go postal on a freaking peace activist for her to answer to stupid, simple e-mail.

    My mother was an extremely explosive and volatile person growing up, and I have tried to cultivate the opposite in myself. My mother scared people, intimidated them. But I swear: it’s that kind of attitude that gets taken seriously. God forbid I try to actually kill someone with kindness and expect the same in return.

    • lagusta

      EXACTLY. So annoying. Most of the time I think I do a good job of pulling the people close to me who bring honesty and sweetness to my life and who make it easy to bring the same to them—maybe the fact that I’ve done such a good job surrounding myself with good people is why the real world hurts so bad.

      Oh my oh my, the sweet irony of the fact that this all was caused by a peace conference.



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