So the temptation to rant about my current ebay purchase gone terribly wrong is there- but I think I'll spare everyone- because I realize with full clarity that it's boring to everyone but me and the idiot who sold me the broken thing and won't take care of the problem. I get to be nasty now, though. Which always brings out something kind of icky.

It's like this. I do my best on all occasions to be nice. Because I like myself better this way. I was starting to slip on the long commute to work- getting just a little evil around the edges, and not in a way that titillates and makes Kbot happy. More in a way that just pisses off other asshole drivers, and fills me with remorse later when I realize that it is unnecessary.

But this instance is deserved. And then I have a choice. I have taken it in the nicest way possible to the end of the line. Now I play the big guns and come out the asshole in the occasion. I could walk away. I can afford to do so. But the principle has me all riled up, and I just...can't...seem...to get past the gritted teeth effect. And it feels good to play bully and pull out the whole "policy smolishy" thing. And I hate that in myself. I really, really do. Probably good cause not to have gone to law school. (Like THAT was a choice, really- maybe it was the universe telling me something) I would love to be magnanimous and be able to simply say, "what a fucking prat" and take the hit, get some glue out, and walk away. Without thinking about sticking it to him. Without thinking about it rather than sleep. Without writing about it despite telling you that I was nicer than that. Fuck it. I will bore some of the people most of the time. That's something I think I can safely promise. New subheading, perhaps. "Now more boring than before! With an extra pinch of evilness thrown in for good measure!" Because my quote from Nabokov didn't appear to register with anyone, and taking a hit at him is not good sport- he's dead.

And with that note- no, I didn't sleep much last night. It appears that I would rather lay there and mull over whatever is currently in the brain for an absurd length of time, just picking the mental scabs, so to speak. Because it's crap to sleep with things unresolved. But then I guess that there really is only one sleep that does that. Resolves everything, I mean. And then only for the sleeper. The rest of us get to fix what they left behind.