It was nice to come home.
It was nice to hear people say that they missed me.
And that it was good to listen to my playing again.
Except this one guy.
He said, ” You’re mean. I’m scared of you. I’m glad that you were far away from me.”
So then I hissed like a pissed off cat and he ran away back into the kitchen.
“Don’t you come back out again or I’ll claw your eyes out,” I said with the most tender affection.
I spent the rest of the week taking a one question poll:
Are you scared of me?
Most people laughed and said no. (Specifically, hell no.)
But I was very surprised that some people hesitated before answering, “No … not really.”
It made me think.
Perhaps it’s because I say what I mean and mean what I say.
Maybe I don’t have to be quite so mean when I say it.
Or better yet, if it’s nothing nice, to say nothing at all.