For a split second I tried to have this cute, coordinated backdoor play station with bubbles and such. It quickly digressed into a bucket with standing water. However, the big pink bottle of bubbles stayed, and despite loosing the lid and general neglect it still produces bubbles. Every time we walk through the back door Leila will take a moment to blow a few bubbles. Isn’t that the loveliest way to live life?
A fit of violent anger disproportionate to the offense(s), real or perceived, brought on by litter, truant teenagers playing offensive music and hoarding the swings MEANT FOR CHILDREN and/or excessive displays of affection between two adults oblivious to the fact that their foreplay is in the direct field of vision of mother trying to enjoy watching her daughter play at the park. Often generates misanthropic fantasies of morphing into a surly old man stereotype.
Am I the only one that gets this on drizzly Tuesday mornings?