Hey, Miss J!

The headache I developed from the nightmare of last night followed me until 2 or 3 this afternoon. I was in bed and trying to sleep it off. It was excruciating and made me queasy. I felt like my brain was sloshing around in my head.

I still had a long task list to get done.

• Yet another new debit card
• Get gas
• Get meds
• Return package
• Pickup package

I had some spare cash and splurged on McDonald’s on the return trip home.

Made it to the bank with less than 30 minutes before they closed, got my card. Ran (hahaha.. by run, I mean drove) home to secure the card.

The rest of my list seemed straight forward, except for the fact that this young adult nearly got killed at the gas station. When I came up, it was fine. Went to the window to run my (credit only now) card and went to pump. Course, I didn’t use the full amount and was about to leave, but remembered that I’m supposed to get a receipt for the difference. Credit cards originally charge for the amount specified and it takes about 24 hours or so for the correct number to be in the system.

Sooo… Saw a short line at the window. Fine. Young guy there was going off at the woman behind the glass. Screaming obscenities at her, etc etc . He even slammed on the glass.

And that… is why people have security glass.

An older man tried to get him to be more respectful…

And… it didn’t go well. The younger man, and by that, I mean probably young enough to be my son, started yelling insults and other profanities at the older man. Then got himself even more upset and kept escalating it.

The older man told him to calm down and the younger man got even worse. The same nasty words he used at the woman in the window, he actually dared the older man to use them against his mother.

Ironic because the older man had asked him if he’d speak to his mother or sister like that.

I don’t understand how someone can have such an explosive temper that they tick themselves off and keep going and going with a whole other adult human who they do not know.

Then the older man started hurling insults too. I could tell he was furious. The level that argument got to so quickly almost made my head spin. I won’t go into detail about what the older man said but… yeah. It included profanity.

And the younger guy left.

Remember how I said that I liked it when I had a boring day? This is why.

The younger man was fortunate that he kept walking away. Was yelling insults and threats, but kept walking.

The older man… it turns out… was an officer who wasn’t in uniform and had his gun in the car with him.

What I’ve learned is that even if the other person is disrespectful, do not return it in kind. Mind… I was around the younger man’s age when I learned that and even before, I was timid. I didn’t like confrontation at all, so my normal response was just to be quiet.

It’s how you avoid potential injuries or death. If the young guy had acted on his threats, he would not be alive.

I bumped into a few friends there too, and someone I’d known from work.

I guess the trip wasn’t that bad?

… I wish I could have gotten out earlier. Could have avoided seeing all that.

The memory will linger for a very long time…

Got my meds, returned my package, got my other package, headed home and got McDonald’s on the way.

And that was my “exciting” day…

This is—once again—why I love it when my days are boring.

… Reminded me of a confrontation I saw between an older man and a young and very tall man. The younger man tried to push in front of the older man and his wife in a line they were in. He got rude to the wife, which set the husband off and he faced off against the younger man.

I’m not the tallest at all and the older man was about my height. He was a little shorter than his wife…

BUT…

HE WAS WEARING A MARINE HAT.

When older men are wearing military hats… I don’t care how old they look; it should be common sense not to mess with them.

Weird.

I went to get gas so I could get out to where I needed to return the package.

And that package was a can opener.

It’s supposed to be useful for adults who have some disability with their hands.

… It was harder to use than my regular —THOU SHALL STRUGGLE— can opener.

I hope tomorrow is less pulse pounding.

~J. Lyst

Going to see if I’m throwing clots. Two strokes in one year is not good at all.