The middle-aged rage incident

I watched a middle-aged woman do her lolly on a pedestrian crossing yesterday.

She started smashing a metal cage-like object she was carrying onto a car, then punched the bonnet for good measure.

The car was attempting to turn right as she crossed at the lights. I don’t think the driver saw her at first, but he stopped about a metre away.

From my view she didn’t look to be in any danger, but she was incandescent about the perceived slight.

The metal cage-like thing was brought down with considerable force on the offending car. Much yelling and waving of fists ensued from both the raging pedestrian and the motorist.

The youngest and I watched wide-eyed, wondering what would happen next.

Fortunately, the driver and the pedestrian both moved on, after she bent down to pick up the destroyed pieces of her metal thingy off the road and carried them up the street.

We turned into the street to see her examine them, decide they were beyond saving and dump them on the nature strip, before checking her hand for injuries and stomping away.

I don’t think she’d forgotten to take her medication or anything like that, though I warned the youngest to give her a wide berth on her way to the bus stop. I just think she was mad as hell and wasn’t going to take it any more.

There’s a lot of anger in the world these days, society literally seethes with it. Everyone seems to wait eagerly for a chance to let theirs explode.

It’s a bit scary.

I’m blaming mine on middle-aged hormones. I’ve taken to warning the kids I’m in a REALLY BAD MOOD. Though it seems to make no difference, they still poke the bear.

I lost the plot at DD on Valentine’s Day. Not because it was Valentine’s Day, though DD would probably beg to differ. He’d be WRONG. It just happened to coincide.

We didn’t see each other on the day, though it looked at one stage like we might. My hopes were high, but they were dashed by miscommunication, circumstance and wild surf. I was VERY disappointed.

But it was garden variety Friday disappointment. NOT Valentine’s Day disappointment. OK?

There may have been tears. And a few more after some additional bear poking via text message by DD.

All was forgiven by the next morning, replaced by unhappiness that he was heading to the opposite side of the world.

I wasn’t unhappy enough to hurl metal objects at cars that displeased me .. though the youngest suggested I should take the incident as a warning about what my rage could become …

Speaking of rage … I’m still recovering from a blackout-related injury. I was striking a match to light a candle last week when a piece of the ignited matchstick head flew up into the air … and down into my cleavage.

Ouch, ouch, ouch OUCH.

Oooooh I was cross … luckily no children were present at the time as I was very close to tantruming, what with no electricity, no hot water and a sulfur burn to the boobs.

It hasn’t healed yet. I’m nursing a red mark as angry as my mood turned.

Song of the day: Alanis Morrisette “You oughta know”

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