Why are some people so hellbent on being so damned difficult to deal with? Do they not know I forgot to take a picture of Beaver's first day of his sophomore year? (Yes, I'm sure I'll be paying for that when he drags me into therapy -"Oh yeah? You loved Wally enough. You took HIS picture. You always forget about me!") Do they not know that I am on the VERGE of turning 40? Don't they realize it's been three weeks since I've seen Wally? (yes, Beav, it is all about Wally. Go ahead and tell that to the therapist, too.) Don't they know I am having a bad hair day. AGAIN? And that I have 52.43 1/2 things to do in the next 3 hours?
Then why, pray tell, do they insist on adding more crap to my life that - in my weakened state- drives me to drink. MORE. Hmmmmm?
Some people. I swear!