On Anger and Cutlery

no-matter-how-inconsequentialGetting mad and flinging knives out of the sink aren’t usually unrelated instances for those to whom this happens daily, but for me perhaps it’s a slightly different monkey — getting angry or easily riled now seems to be its own kind of aura pre-discombobulation. If you’ve met me, I will hopefully have come across as the generally-(and sincerely)-positive person whom exited their tumultuous twenties.

Life is short and being a dick about it is not going to do anybody any good.*

That being said, I still get mad at myself. So mad that I’m missing the mark in the short transfer between sink and dish-drainer. “Doing the dishes” gets to be the official chore of dispute today because, as temperatures outside rise, it takes less than ten minutes of hot water on my hands to engage a kaleidoscope of confusion and its side-kick, a 50% chance of finger cutting.

+1 Vegetable Peeler

+1 Vegetable Peeler

My universal serenity in this mortal coil is largely attached, however, to doing what benefits those around me… which on its most foundational level includes housework (it’s easy to start feeling some semblance of control over the many inorganic, utilitarian objects which might otherwise like to mock you — yeah, talking to you dripping bath tub). I’ve recently made some peace with the fact that occasionally doing nice things for myself helps ensure the happiness of others.

Breaks are taken more often and less begrudgingly, at least.



*I make this statement with a full understanding of the irony implied by tossing it into a post about what a dumb jerk I can be.

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