this evening, irritated beyond measure, i pop my head out the window and bellow at the kid who's been yelling non-stop on the slope in the backyard, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SHOUTING?
he snaps to attention, nods cheerfully and says yes! and i say, thank you.
he's a charming little imp and i'm crabby and middle aged. also, i would like to shout at the young pianist on the ground floor who murders mozart every night at ten o'clock.
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