Stressed.
I just took a break from school work and stood in the kitchen, leaning against the sink, eating rice and looking my dogs in their begging eyes. By the last bite I was laughing quietly and maniacally, alone, because I am human and they cannot get rice for themselves and for some reason my superiority makes me feel better about myself.
“What’s wrong? You want rice? You want this rice? But this is my rice. You can have some rice if you want. You can use my rice and my pots and my water. Go ahead. I’m giving you permission. What’s wrong? No opposable thumbs? Can’t turn on the faucet? Don’t know how a stove works?”
