Survival Training

I have a problem with stupid people, I don't want to be around them. They bore me, and I want to shoot myself rather than talk to them; but you'll be in line somewhere, or waiting for someone, and find yourself talking to a person who uses words that don't exist. Conjugates verbs in strange ways. My first thought is to strike them with a blunt force object, a baseball bat or a bowling ball, but I usually just talk about the weather, whatever safe subject I can find, and stare straight ahead, as if I was deranged. People usually leave me alone. I've only ever been in two fights, the first I went down quickly, the second I broke his arm with a 2x4. But stupid people drive me over the edge. I like good conversation. Spent all morning and into the lunch hour with the elevator people. An interesting group, the boss of the company that got the contract, the boss of the security company that has to upgrade things that have to upgraded (since we'll no longer be grand-fathered), the state elevator inspector, and a board member who had recently installed an elevator using all of these same people. So the inspector, a woman, was telling everybody else what needed to upgraded, and to what level. Interesting, everybody taking notes. There are seven things that have to be done before the elevator guys can start, the parts are eight weeks out, the work itself will take six weeks. We have a window to do this in September and October, get May and June out of the way first. The high school show comes down tomorrow, and I have to cut a lot more cardboard, to pack the folk art show. Sharee had a reception and presentation in the theater, with finger food and punch, the back hallway is trashed, but it's not a big deal. There's another single mom working-for-food-stamps person that's taking care of the bathrooms and the floors. I don't like her mopping technique, but who am I to criticize, we're talking mopping, I don't know whether to be happy or sad. That I'd raised mopping to a new level, the Modified Chevron had become an issue. I steer back from this. Whatever praise. You know it's a good stroke, you can feel it in your wrists. Just saying. I ordered several books today, then got a couple in the mail, and I don't know where I can start another pile. All the spaces are filled. Make a note to congratulate yourself. What you achieved, and so on. I put no store in anything that can't carry the weight, check my record on this, but there's no room for another pile.