Yesterday evening, after a stress filled day, I fully intended to break my own resolve about avoiding a certain cigar-smoking environment in downtown San Francisco. Instead I had dinner, conversed with my apartment mate and the various stuffed creatures for whom she channels, and after she retired to her room to happily read a big compendium of horror, I indulged in some icecream before bed.
I am glad I never made it there.
One should not inflict oneself on others when one is in a bad mood.
And, given that those others probably would not have even particularly sympathized -- this blogger is, he has finally concluded, not fully human by the standards of many themselves not very likable types -- it would have been like casting little pearls of venom and bile before swine.
The swine don't deserve that.
I also realized, in the middle of my bowlful of coffee-chocolate chip, that the reason why everyone treats a particular coworker better, is because he's a genuinely nice guy.
I am not a genuinely nice guy.
The good thing about NOT ending up in the cigar bar last night is that it gives me much more time today to enjoy my day off, and go have some lamb chops for lunch in Chinatown.
Unlike with people, I have an excellent relationship with lamb chops.
Lamb chops have never taken me for granted.
They've always been surprised.
I've been promising myself those lamb chops for weeks.
The time has come.
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