When Anger Strikes

Anger struck. I wasn't just mad. I was really mad. Really, really mad. Downright angry. So angry, in fact, I did a great job of pulling out all the nasty weeds in the blistering heat as sweat poured down my face and soaked the front of my shirt. The person had done it again. Not for the first. Maybe not for the last. I should have known better. I am the one who opened the door - again. I should have known it was coming. Not just the person's selfish actions. But my anger. But there I was all...