1) Big corporations.
2) Being overcharged by big corporations.
3) Having to talk to call service center representatives employed by big corporations.
4) Never having any proof that call service center representatives employed by big corporations have actually “made the changes to your account” that they claim to be making while they talk to you, and being convinced that instead they are spilling grape soda onto the hard drive containing your information and stamping “HA! Fooled You!” stamps on your files.
5) Going through this special kind of hell five times, with several different corporations, in the span of two days.

That is all. I’ll talk to you when my nerves settle.

Oh! Actually, that’s not all. Also haaaaate:

6) Being told “Oh, don’t worry, your account says all is sunshine and roses and we owe you ninety days of free ice cream and puppies!” and logging into your account on your own computer and having it say, quite plainly and for all to see, ” All is doom and death: you owe us your first born child and also your right kidney.” Yeah. Hate that.

I have an imaginary love-hate relationship with going to the movies by myself. I always drag my feet about going and think I’m going to feel all self-conscious and lonely, or else I get stuck in front of the computer for three hours because it’s no one’s job to say, “Hey, weren’t we going to go see that movie?” and I don’t end up going. But whenever I do, it’s wonderful (of course). I should remember that. I even feel self-conscious and lonely in an enjoyable, grown-up way that I kind of like, even though sitting by myself in an auditorium before the lights go down does remind me a bit uncomfortably of secondary school assemblies. So this brief note, before I brush my teeth and get in bed with Goethe, is to tell you that Kind Hearts and Coronets is my new favorite movie. And that if Louis Mazzini D’Ascoyne weren’t

a) fictional
b) liable to murder me in my sleep
c) probably about to be executed for real this time, anyway,

I would totally be waiting outside that jail house in my own black carriage with the door open, beckoning him to join me.