LAUNDRY! My apartment reeks of clean clothes. I love it.
I’m feeling a bit aggressive today. It all started last night when I let two bitches in yoga steal my peace (I just don’t understand… if you want to chat, go for coffee, if you want bliss and endorphins, go to yoga… don’t mix the two), then while playing nerd boardgames with friends A. and J. I let my inner competitive bitch fly, and was just nasty.
I thought that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling less titchy today, but I was wrong. And then I had a bit of a lesson as to why being aggressive in Winnipeg is sometimes a bad idea.
A few weeks back I watched two sketchy folk throw garbage on the sidewalk about two feet in front of me, and about 10 feet from a garbage can. I considered picking up their trash, marching over to them and giving them an irritated lecture about The State of the Environment, etc. Then, I took a deep breath, picked up their trash and threw it away, keeping my annoyance and irritation to myself. Because sketchy folk are sketchy, and there’s no reason to be nasty with people who might be über nasty back.
This is not to say that I assume all people who LOOK sketchy actually ARE sketchy. However, downtown Winnipeg isn’t known for being the safest place in the city, and there is a large number of super sketchy, and often times dangerous folk, who are members of the Winnipeg community. I don’t assume that everyone who looks like they could be dangerous actually ARE dangerous (just like I don’t assume that all people who look safe ARE safe), but I really don’t want to tempt fate, and wind up with a knife in my gut, or something similar.
Today, this mentality was hammered home. Standing in line, picking up some things from the Dollar Store so that I can create a makeshift outlet in my bathroom (I don’t have one of those, so I can’t do my hair in the bathroom, with all the best mirrors and lighting), some random dude behind me was seriously invading my personal space. I bumped into him when I shifted to grab my wallet, and threw a glare back at him. He apologized, but didn’t move. When I shifted again, and he was so close that I bumped into him AGAIN, I whipped around, full of indignation, annoyance and bouncy hair.
“SERIOUSLY? How about you back the eff up, hey?”
You know how cats puff up to seem more intimidating? People do that too. This guy, who was big already, widened his stance, put him arms on his hips and glared at me. The thing that stuck out at me the most, however, were the signs of meth addiction. Dilated pupils, decaying teeth, sores and a faint sheen of sweat over his face.
He snapped at me. Something about not giving him attitude, not being a bitch. I turned around as fast as I could, paid, and got the heck out of dodge.
I stole my peace back, and I think my rage might be under control again. At least for a little while.
A good life lesson? Don’t antagonize the meth heads. They’re scary and their teeth are nasty nasty nasty gross. So. After that lovely mental image, I will counter with a cute picture of my cat.