To the lady in Fred Meyer's parking lot on Lombard:
I'm very sorry I screamed at you today. Though there's no excuse for my behavior, there are some extenuating circumstances you may not be aware of: I'm a new father of a three-month-old baby. I was pushing her in the stroller, when you backed out of the parking space and almost ran over us both. I screamed something like, "What the fuck lady are you fucking blind why don't you fucking learn how to drive fuck you fuck you fuck fuck fuck." I overreacted. It was raining, your windows were fogged up, and I should have taken that into account. Having a baby has made me super paranoid. Probably because I don't think I'm very good at parenting. I keep thinking she's going to die on my watch, and I'll never forgive myself. That's not your problem or fault. I know I scared you terribly with my over the top outrage, and I need to be more careful in parking lots, too. I'll probably never see you again, but I wish I could tell you I'm going to try to relax a little, and do a better job of keeping control of my temper. Again, sorry.
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