It was one of the core activities of my days, just keeping that anger and resentment alive and sparking, tending it like a fire. I’d think about it, talk about it, have imaginary conversations with the people involved, fantasize about spilling it all out onto the internet with glee. I knew I never would, but it was fun to imagine. But at a certain point, all that anger was like a pile of garbage in the middle of the floor of our apartment. If we lived in a big house, maybe I could shove it all into a spare bedroom or a corner of the basement. But we need every square inch, and I can’t afford
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