Is this the curse of being middle aged? Or am I just a miserable old hag? I think I do a pretty good job of containing my seething rage and incomprehension of everyone's idiocy. I smile alot and friendly and chatty. But, wow, it's an effort. I used to love 'people', finding out about them and enjoyed how different we all are. Now I want to live in a cave and never have to have an interaction with anyone I don't already know and like, ever again