An abridged history of my hate

Come a little closer so I can EAT YOUR FACE.

Back in the mid-nineties, I was the proprietor of a fount of love and joy I called my “Hate-O’-the-Day page.”

I added to it daily for a few months before it started making me tired. I couldn’t give it up after all the time I’d poured into letting my webpage’s four followers know every little thing that bugged me about the world. No way! What I could do, I figured, was create a counterpoint. This I did via my “Things to groove to” page.

I didn’t keep that page too long before I became enchanted enough by the idea of living that I opted to stop keeping track in favor of just doing. I let both list pages slide.

A few years later, I looked at those pages and wondered if it was really important for everyone to know all the little things that drove me bonkers day to day. The groove-tos hardly lingered on my mind, but the list of things I hated felt like a train of boulders I was trying to pull up a hill. Was any of it important enough to keep up in a testament to my super-sized powers of grumpiness?

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