Reflexes- In the past

It’s raining. I hate the rain. My friends always tell me, “Stop saying you hate everything. Hate is such a strong word.” “But it’s the only word to describe my level of distaste for things,” I usually respond.
While we are on the subject, I’ll name a few other others I hate, in order of irritation.


1. As stated, rain. I hate being wet unless I’m bathing or in a swim suit (even in a swim suit I would rather lay on the beach then get in the water).


2. The 1st snow. This is quite confusing since I live in a city that receives ample snow. Here is the issue: I hate the sound of the snow under my boots after the first snow–that "crunch, crunch, crunch" noise as you walk on the snow–it sounds like you're stepping on water bugs, and it makes my stomach hurt.


3. Animals (sorry). I hate anything that you must take care of for the rest of its life (I’m still on the fence about children). This mostly applies to dogs and cats, but also includes pigeons, squirrels, and fish.


4. Sweating. Anytime I’m hot and I don’t have on workout clothes, I’m annoyed. I keep my air at 60 degrees in the summer whether I’m home or not (What’s the point of working if you have to monitor the thermostat?)


5. Self check out lanes. If I wanted to scan items, punch in coupons, and bag I would work at the supermarket.


6. Waiting. I shop a lot, but I also save a lot because I refuse to stand in line for full price clothing. If it's on sale I feel like the long line is part of the deal, but when I’m paying $75 for a t-shirt I should be granted immediate access to a register.

But I digressed, where was I… oh the rain. What a foolish day to wear khakis. Although they are only khakis, they are still full price Banana Republic khakis that I would hate getting that muddy rainwater that splashes on the back of your lower pants leg on. "I should go back home," I think. I look at my phone. It’s already 8:15a.m. I start work in 15 minutes, and I’m nowhere near the office. I can tell this is going to be a shitty day. I’m at the bus stop and there are only a few characters–no cuties or even remotely stylish people, so I pull out my book. An older woman with a cane is slowly crossing the street. Actually, as she gets closer I see that she is not so old and that the cane is more to support her huge frame. “Move; I want to sit down,” she barks at a punk rocker teen. "Feisty," I think at first, though in general I do think that kids have gotten a little lackadaisical with respecting adults. As she waddles to the bench I find myself slightly staring at her. "I bet she’s married," I think. This is always my first thought when I see someone unattractive, rude, underweight, overweight, or freakishly weird. They always have someone. (Life is so unfair like that!) The bus is approaching and I’m positioning myself in front to get a seat, with teenage punk rocker next, followed by an unattractive woman to the left and a bald guy to the right–semi old, huge, rude lady still sitting on the bench behind us. As the bus nears I’m hoping it’s a man driving (they are more likely to stop in front of women). Jackpot. The doors open, and as I step up with my right leg I feel a sharp pain. “I’m first on the bus,” I hear the semi old, huge, rude lady shout. My leg caves and I feel myself bracing as I’m falling forward toward the bus steps from the impact of her wooden cane against the back of my leg. I black out–well, that’s how I'd explain it. Regardless, 15 seconds are unaccounted for. When I come to, I have the cane in my hand, hovering it in the air above her head, ready to strike. “No, don’t hit her!” screams the unattractive woman. I snap out of my trance– How did I get this cane? I’m furious. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears and mouth. I can’t believe this old cow hit me with a fucking cane! I weigh the pros and cons of killing this lady; pros: revenge is so sweet, cons: I’ve been working so hard on getting into heaven–mass every Sunday, saying my prayers every night, and volunteering on weekends (okay, I’m not currently doing all of that yet, but its on my to-do list, and killing a stranger would definitely be a huge setback). Everyone is waiting on my decision–the bus driver, the unattractive woman, the punk rocker teen, and the bald guy. I decide against it–today is not one of my better days, and I would hate to be on the 6 o'clock news with muddy khakis and puffy rain-hair. Maybe if I'd had on my black pencil skirt, pink and black pinstriped blouse, three inch heels, and a fresh blow-out I would have reconsidered. But as it is, I yell, “Are you crazy? Don’t you ever hit me or anyone else with this damn cane!” and with that I throw the cane in the opposite direction of the bus, across the street. “My cane!” she yells to the bus driver, “She threw my cane! I demand you call the police!” I'm thinking, "You attacked me first, you crazy bitch." “I have to get these people to work,” replies the bus driver with a smirk. “All aboard!” he says. "Wait, don’t leave me," she yells. "Sorry, there will be another bus in 5 minutes," the driver said. I knew this was going to be a shitty day!