I feel thwarted.
Do you ever feel thwarted?
I feel thwarted. So thwarted.
Last week, I went to the marketplace merchants and tried to get them to make every Saturday a “Kearth is the Best, He’s Our Guest Day,” and they would give me food and more food (I like food) on that day each week—as much as I want. They chuckled and said, “Not gonna happen, Kearth.” My sincere efforts were thwarted.
Yesterday, I went to the town council and presented my idea for a “Kearth is a Phenomenal Citizen, Oh Isn’t He Day,” and there would be food and celebrations and parades and food and presents for me. They said they would take it under advisement…which means “No.” Thwarted again.
This morning, I stubbed my little toe on a rock when all I was trying to do was kick it because, well, I was not in the best of moods and felt thwarted. Now my toe feels like it is triple-size. And I know it’s mad at me. It won’t cooperate when I want to walk. Thwarted yet again.
I feel thwarted.
So thwarted.
Just plain thwarted.
(Note to self: Ask someone what “thwarted” means. I’m not entirely sure I’m using it correctly and I don’t want to thwart my own efforts to use it splendorifically.)
(Note to self again: Write about the word “splendorifically.”)
