Growing old, one grumpy day at a time

I yelled at some kids today.

OK, so maybe I didn’t actually yell so that they could hear me, instead choosing to vent my audible frustration in the relative comforts of my car, but still, those little no-good punks were bothering me.

I was trying to back out of my driveway, and they were riding their bikes up and down street, going about 30 feet beyond each side of my car, making it impossible for me to leave without possibly running over one of them.

After about a minute of them just idly passing the time without so much as a care to my need to leave, the two kids on the bikes finally realized they were blocking my exit. Unfortunately, the tubby little guy on a scooter pushed and scooted his way around a few more times.

Hence the yelling.

At least I didn’t shake my fist at them.

But if there are any flaming bags on my porch anytime soon, I’m not stopping on them.


4 thoughts on “Growing old, one grumpy day at a time

  1. I usually do one of two things: lay on the horn and scare the piss out of them, or stop after I’ve moved, roll down the window and ask them to point their house out and then ask them if their parents are home.

    They scatter like scalded dogs.

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