Parking farther away then I care to, in the rain (uphill, both ways), wind and cold, I made my way to the front of the store.
There’s a car parked directly in front of the doors.
“Who the hell does that person think they are?!”, Angry Stephanie wonders.
As I get closer, I see there’s no one in the drivers seat.
“They must be pretty damn important to just leave their car here!”, comments Angry Stephanie. “AND, no [handicapped] parking permit…”
As I round the back of the car, I see a woman, about my age, fighting to get an ottoman-style storage bench from the backseat onto a cart.
“Do you need a hand?”, I asked her, double-taking as my anger turned to apathy.
“No no… I’ve got it.”, She said as the cart was being blown away.
A woman so much like myself.
“Well, I’m going to at least hold the cart her for you… it’d be annoying to get it on the cart only to have it push the cart further away.” And I put a foot on the bottom and held the handle bar.
Grunting, she got the bench from the back seat and situated on the cart.
“And I’ll even get the door for you…”, I said, holding the door from behind.
Another woman joined in, getting the other swinging door and we got the bench into the store.
Afterward, I felt so much more rejuvenated than exhausted.
It’s hard work being angry and I think I want to be done with that.