Now, those of you who know me well know how I rarely, if ever, complain. I am usually the soul of patience, hardly daring to raise my voice in anger, let alone in discouragement. Why, most times I...
Okay, yeah, sure. I complain my brains out if I feel I've been wronged by the universe in some way. I just hate to hear other people complain all the time. Tonight, I am going to throw a gripe-fest. I feel I have the right. Let me set the stage for the story:
I am doing a fiber swap with Knitsinchurch, remember? Well, I dyed some of this and scoured some of that and started packaging some of the other, then headed to the "big stash" in the garage to see what else might be fun to send. It was there that I discovered that Noah sucked.
Yes, Noah of Noah and the Ark. He sucked. Oh, he may have been a nice guy in real life. Great carpenter and all that.
He still sucked.
There he was, lining up animals two by two. Could have done the world a great service and smashed those flies, chiggers, ticks, mosquitoes, and...
Moths have destroyed my big stash. My goat hair, my merino, the black Jacob, the economy-sized bales of "Wool, Generic, One Each". It made me want to bomb the garage with a nuclear cedar block. Incarceration and interrogation at Guantanamoth Bay. Insect carnage to darken the nightmares of the most stalwart spider. Horrible thoughts I had.
Still do, but with one saving notion. I now HAVE to buy more wool. This puts a bit of a light at the end of the fiber tunnel.
Now that I am working through this terrible grief and moving into the healing stage, I will leave you with Scenes From Family Fun Night, featuring Beatle Monopoly.
Enter the participants, stage left.
"Oh, cool! This should be fun."
"I'll be the raccoon!"
"I'm lousy at math. Who wants to be the banker?"
"Okay, I got a six. I go first."
Play begins. A few rounds pass, then:
"That's my property. You owe me fourteen dollars!"
"Hah! I passed Go! Gimme my money!"
"Pay each player fifty bucks?!"
"...five, six, seven, crap!"
Things begin to deteriorate.
"Just sell me the damned property already!"
"HAH!! I own that, AND there's a house on it! Fork over the cash!"
"...three, four, @#$%!!"
"Screw you, I'm building a hotel!"
"You put that back right now!!"
All hell breaks loose.
"Fine, here's your stinkin' eight hundred bucks!"
"Get your hands off my token!"
"...eight, nine, ten, OH YOU @#$%&@#$%&!!!"
"I am NOT going to jail AGAIN!!"
"I hate you people!"
"I'm never playing this stupid game again!"
Stomping of feet and slamming of doors. A silence, then:
"So, whadda ya wanna play tomorrow?"