the need to destroy things creeps up on me everytime

I'm intruducing a new segment. Its called, "Why do I hate so much?" I don't know why I am becoming such a hateful person. But I am.

I hate people who over-share. I know I am guilty of this--especially when drinking--but see, when I do things, its okay. When others do the same things, it really annoys me. I think there is a word for that, but I don't know it.

Today, at work, this crazy old bat leaves three messages to call her. All before 9 a.m., which is well before most people I know are awake, let alone at work. I return her phone call, have to let her know that someone she grew up with in 1930 or whenever is dead. She says she is sorry for calling a lot, but she talks some medication. She is 77. She forgets. She hates doctors. She went to get a pap smear from her doctor, he hurt her. She now goes to a female doctor. She's never had genecological problems before. She would feed me if I was there. She is Italian. She loves football. She met Troy Paulomulu once, tried to kiss him. She had a nice time talking to me.

I try to get off the phone with her. I stand up in my cube to indicate to my fellow workers that I am having the strangest conversation. I just can't be mean to her. I am not keeping the flow of conversation. She's old. Maybe she forgets that I am not her daughter. It just made me hate the phone and the thought of getting old.

More Kate hate later.