At the bookstore:
A woman came up to us to ask if both the Spanish Book Club and the Fiction Book Club were having their meetings tonight.
Yes, we said, isn't that nice?
Apparently, it was not nice. It was, in fact, distinctly awful. Hearing people talk in a language that she doesn't understand, even if they aren't actually speaking to her, gives her a headache. Can't they go somewhere else? Why don't people consider these things in advance? Assumption does nobody any good.
We stood there, and we didn't say anything. What can you say to that? What world do you live in, that it's only made with one color and one note? We just stood there and let her talk at us, a ridiculous stream of stingy spirited bad temper, and I wanted to ask her why she was so intent on being miserable.