Little Victories

I like little victories.

Such as the one I feel when I grab the last spot in the indoor parking garage at work in the morning.

And the one I feel when I pick up the bag of potato chips at the deli, and the bag is double stuffed by accident.

And the one I feel when I find a brand new pair of decent looking jeans in my size on the department store clearance rack for $5.

And the one I feel when I take those decent looking $5 jeans to the checkout clerk, she rings them up, and the actual price I’m charged is $3.

And the one I feel towards the guy, who just five minutes prior sped past me on the interstate, when I see him pulled over on the shoulder being ticketed by a policeman as I drive by.

And the one I feel when the know-it-all guy speaks up at the status meeting, spouting out all his inaccurate “facts” about the project, only to be shown wrong and corrected by the boss.

And the one I feel when the kid in the car with the extremely loud subwoofers has a music system that draws so much power that his beater car stalls unless he lowers the volume to a level no one outside the car can hear.

And the one I feel when I decide to grab a quick sandwich after working in the yard all morning, and I wear my grubby yard clothes into the sandwich shop, and a guy who overdresses all GQ and hair gel sits next to me to eat, and he spurts mustard all over his shirt.

And the one I feel when the woman who is line in front of me at the MegaDiscountMart complains about the cheap Chinese yard ornament being $2.97 after she is charged $2.99, and the cashier runs the price check and finds the lady misread the signage on the shelf, the register price is wrong, and the ornament is actually $12.99.

And the one I feel when the guy cuts to get his car in front of mine at the fast food drive thru line, orders gobs of food customized to cater to his selfish tastes, then gets directed to park in the drive thru waiting spot, where he sits after I receive my completed order, and I and the five cars behind behind me drive off and he still hasn’t received his order.

And the one I feel when the guy who has to be the first commenter after a political news story posts a “fake news” rant, and the comment is littered with so many spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors (including misspelling the word “fake” as “faek”), that, not only is his rant rendered not credible, all the responses to his comment focus on pointing out his poor command of his native language.

And the one I feel in the morning when, despite the previous day’s terrible drivers, overly drawn out work meetings with pointless chatter, extremely loud eardrum shattering sub-bass booming vehicles, pretty boys flaunting their good looks and disposable income, spendthrifty and miserable crones dickering over a couple cents on cheap Chinese crap they don’t really need and are only convinced they want by an unethical advertising culture, overweight inconsiderate guys gorging on fast food to the point they are one egg muffin away from coronary blockage, and idiots who believe the only real news is the cognitively dissonant crap that fits in with their illogical and contradictory belief system, I wake up without having had an embolism or thrombosis during the night.

Yes, I like little victories like these.