I rant and I lecture (sometimes loudly) and those who know me well enough can attest to that, especially 1) the people who live with me and 2) the people within earshot/keyboard range of my rants.
Last night, I politely started a lecture and it went something like this:
"Hey guys, let's make a goal this week that every night before we go to bed, you clean up all the things in the living room you've gotten out." I pointed out a plate and cup on the coffee table, an unfolded blanket and pillow on the floor and someone's socks.
My lecture subjects were a 15- and 13-year old who've heard me many, many, many times before.
"Well, sometimes after school, I just don't feel like it," says the 13-year-old in front of me. He sounds disrespectful but mostly he knows that such a statement will unleash a series of my own and he enjoys riling me up. And let's face it, I kind of enjoy getting to tear off into a lecture so it works for both of us.
This was a friendly debate, anyway.
"But sometimes when I get home from work, I don't feel like cleaning up from the night before," I stated. "And I do a lot of things when I get home from work that I don't feel like doing but I do them anyway because it's my responsibility like feeding all the dogs and ...."
Without realizing it, my finger and my hands were moving about as face as my mouth.
"I really don't like your finger," he said, and he reached out and grabbed my swinging index finger.
I stopped talking.
He let go and I resumed my speech.
"Wow, you cannot give me a lecture without using your hands," he said.
He grabbed both my hands.
"See? Oh my gosh," he laughed. "It's like pulling a whisker off a cat." And he pretended to pull a whisker off my face.
The lecture was subsequently over.