stanley’s delicate condition

Stanley Freitag was desperately looking forward, after a long arduous week of work and paying bills, to a nice relaxing weekend of nothing but one hundred per cent peace and quiet.     He specifically made his wife Agnes, and their kids adhere very strictly to a promise not even so much as to think of bothering him no matter what might happen.   


Friday night at last arrived.    He went to bed very early, at around nine o’clock, precisely in order the better to assure that he could count on as restful a sleep as possible so he could enjoy the perfect Saturday.     Suddenly from out of nowhere it was Saturday morning at around four o’clock a.m.    He woke up with a headache and no matter what he tried it would not go away.    It was one of those  five alarm migraines during which every time a phone or doorbell rang, or a light went on, he went right through the roof.    He ended up having to beg Alice to call his best friend, Joe Fensterblau, and to ask him not to bother to make any plans for them to do anything together until further notice.


As it turned out, Stanley couldn’t get a break no matter what he tried.    Because of a problem in their schedule, the garbage men were forced to go through his neighborhood that morning, bright and early, with all their loud noises.   Besides that they were close enough to his house that he could smell all the garbage as it passed him by and it made him unbearably nauseous.     As if that weren’t quite unbearable enough the kid next door got a new electric guitar and invited some friends of his over to play in their loud band.   


Although Stanley had originally hoped for such a nice time that weekend he was subjected to a bottomless pit of frustration.     One bitter setback was immediately followed by another.     Everyone knows how hypersensitive somebody with a headache always is.    Ordinary things, even the good ones, are so hard to accept.    The seemingly endless restlessness and frustration drove him to fits of rage and fury. Eventually he just fell back onto his pillow and tried to accept the phones, smells and other distractions in the hope that next weekend could be much nicer.    


Eventually Sunday night arrived and a harried, frustrated Stanley started feeling a lot better, just in time to go to bed so he could be ready on Monday morning to start his work week.    Having been begrudged the ability to relax over the past weekend he was quite frustrated but eventually he was forced to accept his bad break.

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