I just admitted to Todd, in the course of a conversation about our respective relationships, that when I am really, really angry, which isn't very often, I slam Mr. Shakes' and my bedroom door three times. Slam! as I walk into the bedroom. And then I open it and slam! it shut two more times, just to get it all out of my system. I'm not proud of this, mind you. But there it is.
And here's why Todd has been my best friend since we were angst-drenched goth teens half a lifetime ago: Because he replied, "Nice. I love slamming doors when I'm mad. I'd love to one day slam a door so hard it explodes into a million pieces!"
OMG. Totally. What a satisfying image!
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