I’m pretty sure we all struggle with self anger for various reasons. Nothing aggravates me more than when there’s no one to blame but myself.
This invariably ends up with me slapping my forehead while chanting STUPID, STUPID, STUPID.
For instance, in the Things I Should’ve Said category…USE YOUR WORDS.
That has been my mantra for as long as I can remember, and I’m the first to chastise someone for not speaking their mind when the opportunity presents itself.
So why then did I let the tourist from Maryland take his dogs (yeah, more than one) on a poo walk down my driveway last weekend?
I stood there and watched, open mouthed yet silent, while this jerk casually strolled ON MY PROPERTY with the squatting Fidos…so unlike me.
In my own defense it had been a very busy day at Lucky Dogs and my words just failed me: Hey, buddy, your dogs are not that lucky and that is not what the sign means.
Or how ‘bout over the same weekend when I blatantly allowed my beloved sister to take a ton of orders while sporting a delightful little “black thing” in her tooth?
She’s so proud of her great big Brownie smile that I rode that train for a good mile, but I did make it all good by finally having to take the toothpick to her on the floor of Weezie the Trailer, for privacy.
Laughed so hard it almost resulted in messy pants. It was a close one for sure.
Things I Should NOT Have Said – Okay, maybe sometimes I’m a tad rough on the children.
I can’t seem to help myself from demanding that instead of whispering their order to mommy that they should instead speak to me, the one preparing their food.
This surely should promote a sense of self-confidence and control of the situation—all good things for certain.
So, in retrospect, telling a kid he “gets nothing” unless I can hear it might not have been such a good plan.
Why, then, does it feel so right to me? Yup, that makes me mad at me.
Things I Should Not Have Done – I do so adore the mornings. There’s nothing quite so special to me as my delightful bird-chirping-before-the-traffic-starts mornings.
It’s my fave time of the day and I cherish it so.
The first thing I do is crank up my little bitty radio out there and rock to the oldies, all by myself and happy as a clam.
How caught off guard do you think I was last week when I was sweeping away to the blaring tune of Witchy Woman and got all tripped up in my broom?
Oh yeah, very special. Fell right down to the ground. And just like we all do, I sprang up as quickly as possible looking all about to see if anyone had witnessed this broom debacle—then had to check for boo boos.
I was very mad at myself for that one. Actually limped around for a few hours, but no one seemed to notice, or care.
The morning-haters already want to punch me in my perky morning face, so I’ll just bet some of them would’ve truly enjoyed my broom ride to doom.
Well, you get the picture. The list goes on and on.
I guess the best plan would be to stop dwelling on the shoulda, woulda, couldas and move forward to the inevitable next incident of things that make me mad at me.
Luckily I’m blessed with a forgiving heart and the memory of a senior citizen or for sure there’d be a path of death and destruction in my wake.