If you would've told me a month ago the personal jam I would've been in a month from then I would've told you you were crazy. There would've been no way you could've predicted it. No one could've known. It would've seemed absurd. I would've laughed in your face. You would've been tossed out on your ear. It would've been ridiculous.
If you would've said Old Faithful would've been in my back yard, that alone would've been enough to've made you certifiable. I would've said that would've been impossible. No one could've guessed they would've actually shipped it to me. It would've been a ludicrous guess. If you would've said it, I would've said you were cracked. Nothing like that could've been foreseen.
But when we knew it was on the way, if you would've told me that I would've had so many problems with it, I would've been up in your face. You would've gotten a piece of my mind. I would've taken you out, and I could've, with several cutting remarks that would've left you twitching and babbling. I would've dressed you down and you would've come across as very embarrassed.
I could've never guessed what would've happened or that it could've turned out as badly as it did. I could've pictured Roto easily enough, underground, twiddling with knobs and gas jets, and that would've been fun for him. I should've turned out in life more like him, a man of the fields, acquainted with the hunt and stream, and I could've except I was sheltered and made a gentleman. They should've left me to nature. Then things could've been different.
But what could've been is not very useful now. We can always dream of what could've or should've been. It would've been nice but we're left with what is.