A Grudge by Any Other Name....

Grudges.  Feelings of ill will or resentment.  Personally, I'm a fan.  I know I shouldn't be, and I know it's probably unhealthy for my body and mind, but I can't help myself.  I hold them.



When I was in 3rd grade a thousand years ago, I moved to a new town.  For some reason, I was back visiting my hometown and was allowed to go to hang out at my old school with my old friends.  Very cool.  Until recess.  It had been raining all morning, and the playground was a soggy mess of sand and mud.  We were allowed to go play outside if and only if we had galoshes with us.  Yes, galoshes.  (notice my restraint by not calling them rubbers.)  Mind  you, this was the mid 1980s.  Galoshes then weren't as fashionable as they are today. 



Then



Now

I think we can draw conclusions as to where I'm going here.  I had none with me.  I was merely an innocent guest at the school I will now refer to as "Small Town Elementary School of Unfairness and Spite."
I had to stand, on concrete, watching the other kids play. The. Entire. Recess.   

I am now 30 something. And I'm still angry about it.  And my anger is aimed at one particular teacher who made me stand there.  That, my friends, is a quality grudge.


Anyway, I was working on a good one today.  I was all mad at a coworker (at my job I'll refer to and hint about, but never actually name).  I was right, he was wrong.  Clearly.  But after my meanness and attitude-filled rant at him, he was pleasant and polite back.  Whoa.  That kind of crap puts a damper on grudge-building.  Jerk.

I'm gonna have to find a good grudge tomorrow.  It's good to have goals.