Sweet Justice.

I think I may re-name this blog "Shitty Things That I've Been Doing Lately", because here's another whopper:

Today, on my way home from work, I was asked by a ten-year-old girl that lives down the street if I wanted to buy some lemonade from her stand. Truthfully, I could've really used a cool beverage at that point, I was a block away from home, had worked a hard day, and I was parched.
However, I said no.... And it was purely out of spite.

You see, at least once a week, at approximately 5:55PM, this kid gets onto her tire swing (which is hanging, stupidly, around a tree on their front boulevard, two feet away from the sidewalk). Thanks, mom and dad. She waits (no matter how close or far away I may be), posted on the grass, until I am directly in front of her, and at the opportune moment, careens herself square into my shin.
Afterward, she gets mad at me for "being in the way". She often runs into her house to notify her parents that I have gotten in the way of her swinging. Sometimes she says that I "hurt her foot". Here's a thought, kid: I'm not a ghost (yet*), so quit trying to swing through me.
At this point, any normal parent would be realizing the dangers of posting a tire swing two feet away from the sidewalk. Any other parent would cut the tire swing down, pack up their things, and move to a house with a fucking backyard. Instead, they pat her on the head, go jump in the Hummer, and go buy her another pair of "mini Uggs" (thanks again, mom and dad).
Sometimes, as I'm walking away, I see her smug little face peering out of the window as if to say "I've won this round, bitch".

Today, when I refused that glass of lemonade that I felt like I was standing up for something, and that something is "myself".
I've had my enemies over the years (Robin Williams, for one), and I should probably draw the line at primary school-aged children. "Should" being the key word, here.

I'm a huge fan of spite. It is easily my one of my favorite emotions, and my polite refusal of her lemonade barely makes up for all of the orthopedic surgeon visits that I may have to make later in life. However, using spite against a child? Making a 10-year-old enemy? I may (or may not) have gone too far this time.

I hope there's cable in hell, guys. I will just die if I miss an episode of Shaq Vs.

xoxo
~sarah p.

*...and when I am a ghost, and you can swing right through me, little girl, I promise you I will haunt the living shit out of you and your family.