Stupid people make me put on my crankypants

Dear Elderly Woman at the Park:

While I myself do not understand why you feel it necessary to put cat food down every morning when there are dozens of obese squirrels, pigeons, and god only knows what else upon which the park's Kitty Kingdom could potentially feed, I accept your devotion to the park's stray cat population (though I will say some of those cats could stand to chase a squirrel or three -- just sayin').

Now, I will admit that my dog was behaving in a slightly more moronic manner than usual, and I'm not in the least bit happy with the way he lunged for the food.  Particularly because when he did so, his legs tangled with mine, and I very nearly tripped and fell flat on my face.  But what I really don't appreciate -- can you guess, madam?

I really don't apprecate that you laughed.

Because, see, when he crossed in front of me, his leg caught between mine as I was mid-stride, and had I not managed to catch myself when I tripped, I likely would have broken my dog's leg, or left him otherwise injured. 

Not funny, you old bat. 

No love whatsoever,
Bunneh

Things that scare me:

1. Discovering that the people on the conference mailing list are people who have written books that I currently have on my shelf, and who have written articles I used when writing my thesis.  These are people my inner lit geek fangirls like crazy. 

2.  Discovering that, as far as I can tell (using my GWU Alumni library account as well as Google Scholar), no one has written anything in an academic capacity on The Dionaea House.  Meaning that I could potentially be the first person to write an academic paper on it.



Deep breaths, Bunneh.  Deep, deep breaths.




Deeeeeeeep breaths.





No one'll think less of me if I curl up in a corner and sob now, right?