I hate protests. They mess up my daily life. Traffic is often rerouted; the peace of my walk around the block near my office is sometimes disrupted; metros near my workplace are flooded with well-meaning do-gooders. I picture them having come from all corners of the country -- sometimes beyond, rubbing their hands together with glee at how they're going to go to D.C. and be HEARD! Make a differencE! Just like last weekend's protesters, and the weekends leading up to that ... But I bear them no ill will. Go shout your message, protesters. Hope for change. Change can be good. Enjoy yourselves. Just know that your pleasure in the moment and camaraderie might be all you actually achieve from the experience.
Our family has to go out of its way to accomplish certain errands. Since we generally hit the doorstep at about 7:15, this means an arrival home of an even later magnitude. Generally meaning we're eating out that night, an act we can't afford, and sacrificing other things we might reasonably do with what's left of our modest weeknight evening.
So it was with great displeasure that we saw the following last night:
Note the signs on the windows, darkened during what should be business hours. What do they say?
The misspelling is merely insult on top of injury.
Well, okay. Touche. You got me. Point taken. You might have made me mad, but you've at least got my attention. I did stop for a few seconds and consider your situation. So, bravo.
We drowned our sorrows in the one (aforementioned) place we knew would not be affected by the protest.