Childish.

Tonight, I am mostly feeling petulant. I’m really not proud of this. Allow me to explain:

Fin has an interview for art college coming up, so she’s had to get a portfolio to take her work around with her. It’s quite heavy. So I thought I’d surprise her on her way home from work, and carry her portfolio back to her place for her, before heading home to do the the jobs I needed to do tonight. So I bought my ticket from the office to Wallington, where she lives, and then hopped off the train at West Croydon, because I knew she’d be on that route home, and about what time she’d be there. I couldn’t leave the station, but I could wait on the platform.

So I waited there for half an hour, and then assumed I’d missed her, and chuckled ruefully that my good deed had gone a bit wrong. I got a bit worried when I phoned her at home to have a laugh about it, and she wasn’t in, but figured that maybe she’d had to work late, and I’d missed her in the other direction.

Turns out that no, I hadn’t missed her – she’d gone from work to a friend’s birthday party. She’d completely forgotten it was that friend’s birthday until her sister rang to remind her. So, y’know, just one of those things.

And there is where the childish bit comes in. See, I dislike the friend in question. Now, I know it wasn’t her fault, or indeed, anyone’s fault. It was, as I say, just one of those things. And still, there’s a nasty childish part of me that blames her. That’s annoyed at her for blowing my good deed. That’s put out with her that I sat for half an hour in the freezing bloody cold, and took much longer to get home than I should have. I know it’s not her fault. I don’t blame her, not really – I mean, it’s her birthday, for christ’s sake – of course she’s entitled to a good day on her birthday, with her friends about her. I wish her a happy birthday. But still, I’m feeling childish and petulant, and a tiny part of me wants something to go wrong for her tomorrow, just to get a bit of petty revenge.

Not really very grown up, is it?

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