Big sigh. Big indignant sigh. Sometimes in life, you just have to suffer from heartbreak. “Grit your teeth and bear it”. “You win some, you lose some”. Etc. Etc. adages ad nauseum. But what else can you do? The trick, I am told, is to let it go. Recognize that nothing is permanent, that tomorrow is another day, and move on. Accept everything with grace and patience and equanimity.
But I don’t always do as I’m told, do I (Mom? Dad?)? Nope. And I. Want. Revenge. You don’t have to tell me that this is not becoming, or kind, or that those deer who destroyed our carrot patch didn’t know they were hurting us, or whatever other philosophical greater good you can come up with. I will indulge the lesser of myself and go back on my nightly prowls until I satisfy my deep seated tribal instinct and get my revenge. Indeed, this is a prime situation for the current day maxim: “Sorry, not sorry.” Now let’s go get us some venison.