Peevish

Am I ever. I'll tell the world I'm peevish.

For one thing, I drove my stepmother's white Ford Taurus to work today. It's just so mortifying being behind the wheel of that car. Like walking into a business meeting wearing a bathing suit. (Oh. Wait. No. I've done that. And I totally pulled it off.) And of course, this is the car that left me stranded at the side of a highway on Christmas Eve with an 87 year old woman as my only passenger. That car. I hate that car.

And, talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face, I transferred none of my gear from the jeep to the Taurus. So, I didn't have a Luna Bar ("Complete Nutrition for Women... and me!") to eat at our 9:30 break, I didn't have a book to read when I got to Starbucks, and I didn't have my gym stuff with me so I could go and get out some of this frustration.

And, of course, the battery died on this car. When I stopped for gas. So luckily the sweet pup attendant gave me a jump.

Then there was Starbucks.

A very bad thing has happened at Starbucks. I suddenly realized at work today that I am dealing with yet another Psychic Vampire.

Wuzzat?

The phrase comes from Anton Lavey's Satanic Bible. I never read it, but my college roommate did. And he passed on to me the concept. Here's how they work...

You: Hey! How's it going?
PV: (mournfully, but with a brave smile) Y'know, things are pretty terrible right now?
You: Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that! What's going on?

And the litany begins. Work, relationships, health, money, whatever. And you listen. You commiserate. You give a hug.

But here's the thing. Every interaction you have with a PS, it's always the same story. And that's a story of woe. And they're all about, "gosh thank you so much for listening to all this, it really means so much to me." And you get to feel good about yourself for a little while. You were there for him or her. You're a good friend.

Y'see, psychic vampires feed on the better parts of your nature. Your empathy. Your compassion. And they will drain you dry. For them, it's all about the attention. It's the way they get people to notice them.

And yet another one has latched onto me. I guess I should have seen it coming. But I didn't. I thought the woman was just flirting with me. And so I let it be known that I was a homo. But then, she pounced. She "mentions" in a kind of off hand way, that her husband left her. That she has cancer. That she left a well paying job to pursue being an artist and it's not working out.

So now, I think I'm going to be subjected to her every blessed time I go to Starbucks.

Thank the Lord I had the foresight to Let It Be Known that I am absorbed in my book, and please don't disturb me while I'm reading.

Even The est Guy (annoying in his own right, saying things like, "Well why have you chosen to be peevish today?") knows enough not to interrupt while I'm engrossed.

But puh-leeeeze, God, c'mon... Don't take away my Starbucks.

This problem, I hope, will vanish with warm weather. When I'll be able to sit on the porch, chatting with the other blue collar guys, and smoking cigars. (Cigar smoke is to psychic vampires as garlic is to the Dracula kind.)

And, I'll hopefully have my jeep in good running order by that time, too.

Till then, I'm peevish.

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