It’s like some super charged anger machine. You get inside and it feeds you with anger from every side. you can’t get away until you find that parking space. Easier said than done!
Yesterday. Driving into the city. Cars swirling all around me. Those bloody greenways lanes. “Keep out until 4.30” they shout. “It’s 4.15” I shout. I stay out. wouldn’t be done to drive in the greenway. Stop at traffic light. Car in front is indicating that he will move into the greenway. I’m indicating that I’ll move into the greenway. Woman drive up on the left of us both IN THE GREENWAY! As the queues pull away from the lights does she let us move into the, now non-greenways lane?
No, of course not. Stupid, ignorant, selfish, arrogant, bitch (pardon my french, Mother). We’ve all got to get somewhere. We’re all moving in the same direction. Our hearts are all pumping the same. Our lungs are all breathing the same (bus polluted?) air. Why, oh, why, oh why?
Oooh, it makes me angry again just thinking about it.
But… the thing is, it was just a small little thing really. Like someone standing on your toe, or a door closing before you can reach it. So why the anger, and why the french? (My passenger actually held on to the handle above his door.) It’s the fact that I was in that super charged anger machine. Plain and simple. no other explanation. (Apart from the PMT and the stress at work?) Evil little boxes that don’t let the air around you move, and don’t let the energy go anywhere but around your head.
I parked the car and got out. Took a deep breath. And relax.
If only I could ride my bike…