Today I got up early, stretched a bit, then had a great cup of coffee and a mediocre quiet time. In a good mood, with a bounce in my step and a song in my heart (the theme to "The Brady Bunch." OK, so it wasn't a very good song) I walked out and GOT INTO MY CAR. I don't know what it is about the automobile but it turns me into a sinister and vaguely violent individual. I treat my car like a kamikaze pilot treats his plane. If you don't drive in a manner that I consider proper -- which I don't think it's possible to do -- I am perfectly willing to take you out.
If I'm pushing my grocery cart toward the checkout counter and someone else is arriving at about the same time, I have never accelerated quickly and knocked this person down, screaming obscenities about his mother and giving him the finger. I graciously allow them to pass (I'm such a good person. I really am an exceptionally good person). But let me spy one of those abominations who wait until the last minute before wedging their way into a line of traffic without politely waiting their turn. I patiently wait my turn, unless I'm in a hurry or a bad mood or I have some take-out pizza that I don't want to get cold, or I just don't feel like waiting in line. I risk my own life and limb and the limbs of others to try to keep this person OUT OF THE LINE.
It never works, of course. These people always get in.
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