My sense of entitlement to reality as I want it, not as it is, leads to frustration if I dwell on it too long rather than letting it pass through, knowing that all will change in just a few minutes.
Sing, Sing a Song
I’m trying to read a book on my tablet, but I can’t quite concentrate on the words because a man five rows behind me is singing loudly, as if he is one of the Supremes backing up Diana Ross. I’m a little put off because I can’t concentrate on my book with this singing. Doesn’t he know the rules by heart like me?