Thank you.
No problem.
One training day was just terrible. Nothing was going right, so by quitting time I was just in a very foul mood. On my rear windshield I have a sticker that says “Combat medic”, and somebody must have thought that was interesting, because as I was sitting at a red light the car next to me rolled down his window. “Are you in the military?” he asked, not noticing my ACUs. “Yeah,” I replied, wary because I’m in Seattle, a liberal hotbed. “Thanks for everything you do,” is what he said. And with that, that crappy day flipped a 180, and I was sporting a smile all the way home.