I’m taking a writing class starting tomorrow night. I’m pretty excited, it’s been a while since I’ve sat in a room with other like-minded people and talked about writing, in real life. For the next six weeks I’ll be busy every Thursday night from six to eight. It’s a creative writing class, taught by an award-winning author of, among other things, furry fiction.
Yes, there is a huge market. I had to google it too.
But I digress, I’m telling you that so that I can tell you this.
This morning I got up early, I rushed my girls to get ready and myself, I dropped off my middle child thirty-five minutes before her school started (she went to the school library to read with another early arriving friend). The youngest and I then drove about fifteen minutes to pick up a friend and get her to her work on time as her car is currently out of commission. This wasn’t the first time we’d done this and honestly, it hasn’t been that big of a deal to me. I enjoy helping.
Until today, that is.
As we drove back into town, we talked back and forth about the previous evening and school work came up. She’s working on an online degree. I commiserated with the course load and admitted I’m glad to be done with college, to which, she replied.
“Yeah, you’re one of those people who would need to actually attend class. You aren’t a self-starter. You know, you don’t have that drive.”
Luckily we were approaching the front of her workplace and I could pretend to concentrate on getting a good spot at the sidewalk and keep my mouth shut. She got out of the car, said she’d see me later and off we all went in our opposite directions.
I drove to the parking lot at the school, trying to remember if I’ve ever been more egregiously insulted. The resulting thundercloud accompanied me the entire day. 🌩 Today was not a day to misbehave in my line of sight. 📏😡
This friend has not known me long and I found myself wondering, all freaking day, what she saw in me that would inspire such a statement. Perhaps because in the last four days that I’ve driven her to work she’s been about three minutes late each day, except today. Maybe that lack of planning or motivation showed poorly. Maybe I don’t talk enough, maybe I talk too much. Maybe because I’m only a tutor, not a teacher. Maybe I just should let her have her opinion and not worry about it.
It made me angry.
I may be an A++ procrastinator in writing but, dammit, I get things DONE everywhere else!
It wasn’t until I got home and talked to a close friend about it that I realized how angry I was. The swear words flew and so did my temper.
And then it was over.
My friend laughed, “I bet that felt good!”
I flopped down, winded. “It did.”
“Next time, let her know how wrong she is. Where is that wit that leaves me no retreat when I’ve pissed you off?” he asked.
“I was driving,” I explained testily.
“Bullshit, you want to be liked. Stop it. We’ve all said those stupid ass things without thinking and been called on it. Quit giving people a bye because you want them to think you’re nice.”
I flipped him off.
I am nice, DAMMIT!