This week I had three separate frets. By the third fret, Loved-One got a bit anxious.
“You’re always so calm,” he said. “It’s hard for me to see you agitated. I’m afraid you might lose it.”
In one instant, I made cell-phone calls in quick succession. No throwing or shouting or swearing or stamping, or hitting of animate or inanimate objects.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Loved-One suggested.
I really wanted