Tuesday Hatred: unwind-protect
I hate overly-refrigerated businesses. It is, after all, November; it should not be colder within than without the cafe. One would have thought this went without saying—and it is true that less has to be done in my locale to effect the hated differential than in others, where its undesirability would be thus rendered more apparent—but still!
I hate the so-called feature of so-called internet so-called dating sites, whereby one can “view” by whom one’s “profile” has been “viewed”. It makes it possible to know quite clearly when communication, having been established in one direction, will not become bidirectional: namely, when, having sent a one a missive, you see that that one then “v”s your “p”, and—nothing. This is worse than merely nothing because of the element of judgment.
I hate that the depths of procrastination I’ve been plumbing lately have yielded nothing even remotely as useful as reading knowledge of Italian. I hate that our gracious host outdoes everyone even as regards not working.
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