One of, if not THE worst traits of mine, is my hanging on to resentment.
It's a good thing my memory isn't better than it is, or I would never forget a slight, an injury, or even a minor and inadvertent thwarting of my preferences.
Last night, hanging out, and luxuriating in the fact that neither Himself nor I had any obligations for almost 48 hours, he was making DVDS in the basement, and I was finishing up some paper-work and switching channels between Letterman, and Colbert -- he came upstairs as Letterman's monologue finished, I switched channels and put the remote down, thus, apparently, signaling my intention not to go back to CBS.
"You're still mad at Tom Hanks, huh?"
I hadn't even really consciously thought about it, but he was right -- Hanks was Dave's first guest, and that was why I wasn't going to turn Letterman back on.
And I like Tom Hanks, think he's an okay actor and an engaging talk show guest.
Silly of me, huh?
Of course, I was already nursing some resentment of Hanks, I think he has the Oscar that rightfully belongs to Anthony Hopkins for Remains of the Day....
But really, am I irrational, or what?