I should’ve nipped it in the bud. As soon as you began I should’ve told you outright that you were barking up the wrong tree. But I didn’t.
And now no matter how the casual banter starts no matter what we’re discussing you cleverly steer each conversation to the same redundant topic: our shvigger.
At first I thought it was a one-time occurrence that you had been hurt and I could possibly smooth things over. So I allowed you to vent. I was wrong. I’ve been in the family for a handful of years now and I now realize that you always “need to vent.”
I have a hard time understanding the pleasure you take in magnifying the negativity of every family event in picking apart myriad regular incidents as if you’re color-sorting an assortment of Perler beads.
