Charity Bag Fury, Mount Vesuvius, Scorn For Sport & Mind thoughtz

My week in a rather large nutshell

Friday brings PMS. Joy.

A recent symptom it has decided to bestow upon me is sore, swollen gums as well as all the usual delightful things. I also had a dream that I went back to my old job it was more of a nightmare, I woke up in a cold sweat.

I was a bit rattled by the uncharacteristic negativity I was feeling, but I was determined to push through. I got up, made myself a cup of tea, did some meditation, did my morning reflection, read my daily stoic & set my intentions for the day, but I wasn’t feeling my usual sense of satisfaction. It was annoying me.

The ring doorbell jangled to let me know someone was approaching our front door, the annoyance that hadn’t yet subsided, racing back to the surface, when I realised who it was.

Charity Bag Man.

After lockdown, when clearly I didn’t have enough to moan about, I decided to order a no junk mail sticker for my letterbox. Junk mail never bothered me before, but I developed a passionate dislike for junk mail. Especially the plastic clothes bags for charity.

Why? Because charity bag man is the only one who ignores my no junk mail sticker. It’s on my actual letterbox, he can’t miss it. He is deliberately defying my sticker.

I stopped myself mid-mind rant. Why does the charity bag man annoy me so much? In the grand scheme…