The incorrigible Mr. H

2 Mar

Let’s play…Name That Bird! (Seriously)

This bird, and twenty like it, lives in patch of vines that grow on my backyard fence. (Next week we’ll play: Name That Vine!) Every afternoon when I come home from work, I have a flock of these tiny birds waiting to greet me.  Hello, unnamed birdies!  The make my day…except when I try to photograph them.  As soon as I do that, they scatter like the apocalypse is coming.

I am not digging work today.  It may be that it is cold and rainy outside.  Or it may be that my boss is not in the best of moods. (Has that ever happened to you?  You wake up in a great mood, but then the mood of other people infects your mood with anit-good-mood-iness?)

Or it may be that my tenants are just down-right hateful today. (Say what?  My tenant are always a joy to be around…*cough*)

Take for instance this one guy, (We’ll call him Mr. H): Every month Mr. H comes into my office with the foulest mood trailing behind him.  I am quite sure that a smile would stop his heart in its tracks.  He never says anything to me unless he has something to complain about.  Otherwise, he stands at the counter, impatiently tapping his fingers, as I process his payment.  (As impatient people are wont to do.)

As I complete his payment and slide him his receipt, he snatches it up from the counter and then takes great pleasure in destroying it in front of me.  Sometimes he tears it up into bits, but usually he very slowly and very loudly crumples it into a ball.  He then makes a show of throwing it into the trash can as he stomps out the door. (…and cue the closing curtain.)

What the Frak, man? (To quote Battlestar…which I’ve never seen.)

And that’s the way it’s been all day.  Thankfully, I picked up a bottle of Kris Pinot Grigio 2008 yesterday.  Yummers. I will certainly enjoy a glass tonight, once the wee ones are in bed.  Hooray, me!


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