A Matter of Protocol

I know, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we need to take time and reflect on all the good in our lives. I'll get to that later.

For now, I'm grumpy. I'm mad that everything has been breaking in our house lately: the PC (now up and running, but still having display problems - we have a new video card on order), my wife's car (the starter went kaput, $400 - and now the headlights won't turn off automatically), the dryer (needed a new belt, $75), my home wireless network (no longer connecting since we loaded a new anti-virus/firewall program), and not to mention my job (I've been fighting to get one lousy report to work correctly for days now).

And here's another thing: office men's room urinal courtesy. If you are tall enough to reach the catch basin, you are tall enough to reach up and give the handle a tug when you're done. I'm tired of having your leavings splash up at me when I use it after you. It's a matter of protocol and a matter of hygiene, you pigs!