… il faut cultiver notre jardin.
Started the day in a really bad mood.
A great, cathartic, ferocious mood.
I kicked arse, I wrote cutting emails, I laid down the law. I swore more than usual.
And I felt great. Alive.
How hypocritical of me then to lecture Luca this evening about his intolerable, and not tolerated, use of swear words.
With exaggeratedly raised voice and prompt switching off of the Xbox.
But I didn’t swear then.
What a poor role model I would be.
I have standards, for fuck sake.