I'm like this book. It's about a woman who is really pissed off a lot of the time, surrounded by people who can bear or not bear being pissed off themselves and thus her either. Most people can't bear it or her. And finally, she can hardly bear it herself. And then her bearing it is what she can do and it seems heroic inherently (to me), to be a really pissed off really old woman Then everyone dies (or has a baby, same difference).
Meanwhile, my father arrives today. Unless he gets pissed off about something and doesn't come, which is entirely possible. He was supposed to come yesterday but he was tired (which is right around the corner from pissed). He is to stay a week, unless he gets pissed... I am very happy he is coming. Which is odd. Which is aging. Even people who have been almost unbearably hard on my nerves take on increasingly value for merely remaining, some any kinda way. If you're on my books at all anymore, you're in the black, fyi.
"She took a deep, quiet breath and thought how she did not envy those young girls in the ice cream shop. Behind the bored eyes of the waitresses handing out sundaes there loomed, she knew, great earnestness, great desires, and great disappointments; such confusion lay ahead for them, and (more wearisome) anger; oh, before they were through, they would blame and blame and blame, and then get tired, too."
