When it gets cold and the leaves fall, my mood sinks like a submarine with a screen door.
Friendly faces are rarely noticed.
Even my dog turns against me by letting me know several times a week that dog gas is worse than human gas. I get him back when he is sleeping. I place my rear-end close to his nose and let some good ones go. He doesn’t budge. He may go into a deeper sleep, or possibly a short coma, as I have seen his legs shake. I would not knowingly hurt an animal though.
Even when I visit my poor mother at the nursing home, another resident–a tiny, ninety-four-year-old woman–told me that I could not give my mother a candy bar before lunch. I told her that I would not fight men any more, but I would take on a woman. I held my flattened hand in the air and told her that I knew karate. She didn’t want any part of me. She sat, silent.
In the fall I can be a little moody. I yell, become threatening, and act like a total jerk.
It gets worse in winter.