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I went to Target and spent less than $100. Since I normally go every 3, 4, or 6 months, my total is usually significantly higher. I made a stranger laugh. Two women were arguing about whether they should buy pre-filled plastic Easter eggs or fill them themselves. I suggested that filling them myself meant all the remaining M&Ms were for me, so I had the incentive.
I want outside furniture. I sat in some at Target, but it was all terrible. And I think they build it for people who want stuff to put on their grass because I wouldn't want the sharp metal feet resting directly on concrete. I keep thinking I should have a cafe table and stools for the drinking of morning coffee. I would also really like a rocker or glider chair for outside.
Currently my outside space is shared with a bechilded family. Not only do I personally dislike children, but this particular family has no bloody clue how to raise a decent human being. I usually feel very Grinchly, especially on weekend mornings with all the noise, Noise, NoIsE, NOISE. It's strange how a child who screams loud enough to attract the Bogeyman when awakened on a weekday would be so different on weekends. He is willing to get up before dawn's alarm goes off and certainly before dawn's arrived at work and pushed the sun into the groove of day. Children really have no decent cartoons anymore. All the Saturday morning cartoons are puerile. I, unfortunately, have to listen to them through the wall, but its parents cannot detect its airhorn-esque screams of glee over the animated moron parade.
But ranting aside, I don't know that I want to buy nice outside furniture when the child who takes his mother's prize possessions from inside and throws them around until they break on the concrete balcony can touch my stuff. He's clearly demonstrated that he is sub-human and destructive, but my only recourse is not to leave my things where he can reach them. I find it too bad that these people felt like they had to keep the child they accidentally created (there's no way they could have wanted it if they let it act like that). Surely there's someone who would have liked to adopt it. Someone who doesn't live next door to me and who has a clue how to raise a child from the unceasing morass of infancy.
I want outside furniture. I sat in some at Target, but it was all terrible. And I think they build it for people who want stuff to put on their grass because I wouldn't want the sharp metal feet resting directly on concrete. I keep thinking I should have a cafe table and stools for the drinking of morning coffee. I would also really like a rocker or glider chair for outside.
Currently my outside space is shared with a bechilded family. Not only do I personally dislike children, but this particular family has no bloody clue how to raise a decent human being. I usually feel very Grinchly, especially on weekend mornings with all the noise, Noise, NoIsE, NOISE. It's strange how a child who screams loud enough to attract the Bogeyman when awakened on a weekday would be so different on weekends. He is willing to get up before dawn's alarm goes off and certainly before dawn's arrived at work and pushed the sun into the groove of day. Children really have no decent cartoons anymore. All the Saturday morning cartoons are puerile. I, unfortunately, have to listen to them through the wall, but its parents cannot detect its airhorn-esque screams of glee over the animated moron parade.
But ranting aside, I don't know that I want to buy nice outside furniture when the child who takes his mother's prize possessions from inside and throws them around until they break on the concrete balcony can touch my stuff. He's clearly demonstrated that he is sub-human and destructive, but my only recourse is not to leave my things where he can reach them. I find it too bad that these people felt like they had to keep the child they accidentally created (there's no way they could have wanted it if they let it act like that). Surely there's someone who would have liked to adopt it. Someone who doesn't live next door to me and who has a clue how to raise a child from the unceasing morass of infancy.
