When do I get to impose my idea of fun on other people??? After all, I’ve put up with other people’s ideas of fun non-stop all my life – only stopping to cry for reprieve occasionally when I’m completely done in by it all.
What’s that? I have to carry on putting up with it? – all the sensory overloads, the unknowns, the inconsistencies, the confusions, the fear, the sense of bombardment? And never complain?
Sheesh , I feel like Ghandi sometimes, I’m so flipping tolerant.
The funny thing is, people have no idea I’m being tolerant – they only see the valve giving way after a magnitude of pressure