F is for … uh, Frustration

So Mark and I had our nightly telephone chat about our frustrations trying to get minor tasks attended to today — for him, getting a border-crossing “fast lane” card and a passport photo; for me, figuring out how to register our new car, which he bought outside DC, in Kentucky. It wasn’t long before I was in full F-word mode, and when I apologized, he joined me: “Let it out, girl!”

He then suggested that Mexico offers a wide variety of deliciously profane insults. I will have to learn them, and soon. Perhaps this is the motivation I need to study Spanish a little harder.

In the meantime, part of me says, good grief, Fran, if you let the little things get to you like this, what about the big ones?? The other part of me chants: Momma said there were gonna be days like this.

And, as I’m still learning, she was right.








2 thoughts on “F is for … uh, Frustration

  1. Something provoked me to a frustrating cursing, fit of anger the other day but it devolved to wordless SCREAMING and stomping all over the house, SCREAMING repeatedly. It felt rather good! I just hope my neighbor wasn’t trying to nap.


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