In which I comment briefly on my commute this morning...
Dear Guy on My Left,
I was getting really annoyed when you elbowed me every time you flipped the page in your book.
But then you answered your cell phone.
You think I'm going to complain about that. But I'm not.
Because when you started talking on your phone, the Old Lady on My Right stopped giving me the death glances she had been previously giving me ever since I dared to sit down, and focused those death glances right on you.
So thanks, Guy on My Left, for the whole cell phone call.
Although I didn't really care that your office is getting the "big sale," I did care that all the Old Lady on My Right bad mojo was being directed at someone other than me. 'Cause after waking up an hour late, and barely catching the train, I so didn't need that shit.