The good news is, the pond is beautiful, the sun has appeared intermittently throughout the day so it's gotten a breath of air, and, so far only two fish have died. The bad news is, Bill just spent the day dragging two more ratty junked cars from his shop in town out to the pond. I keep reminding myself that it is not my yard, but I hate seeing him trash such a nice place with that worthless crap and am currently so angry about it that it's hard to even think in sentences. Mainly I'm seeing red splotches and lightning and keep thinking the word "destroy" over and over.
Just what are the horrible life experiences that leave a person trapped in this mental illness of stacking wrecked, rusting, and depressingly ugly automobile carcases in the back yard?