Do you ever want to hit someone so hard they’ll wake up and find their clothes are out of style? I stole that line from Goonies. Sometimes their clothes already are out of style and are ill-fitting to boot. I want to hit them just for that. See? I’m a complete jerk, like I said.
For the past couple of weeks I’ve been an angry person. There are many possible explanations for this and perhaps its a cocktail so complex it can’t possible be deconstructed by a mere human like myself. Even now, as I attempt to write this, my son is calling out from his crib and my husband is arguing with some poor tech support person on the phone. I want to punch him in the back of the head because he’s so loud I can’t even hear the words bouncing around in my head. One option would be to sit here fuming or another would be to storm off to the bedroom with my laptop under my arm and slam the door for effect. Instead I put some earphones in and crank up The Killers. It seems to be working so far.
While on a rare break today I had the chance to walk to the corner store to get change for the dryer and pick of a few groceries. The lack of baggage (ie. no child and no dog) gave me the chance to mull over my anger issues for about 10 minutes. And I actually came up with a worthwhile theory: My patience has a limit and it’s used up almost entirely by my son each and every day. When I head out into the world and run into people who drive too slow, who still don’t know how to use the debit machine, or who just seem to be sent by the devil to annoy the heck out of me I don’t have any patience left to deal with them nicely. I’m often only a few terse words away from blowing up like a land mine.
Is patience an asset of limited quantity? I should think not, yet it seems we all run dry at some point. I mean, how many times did your parents let you know they had run out of patience? Or was it just mine? Maybe it’s not really a virtue but rather a commodity, something we can deplete and replenish. I know a good cup of tea or a nap can get those patience levels right back up to 100% before my son pours all the dog’s food into his water dish while the pot on the stove boils over and I slam my foot into the corner of the kitchen island on the way to the stove. I think I’ve lost a few percentage points just thinking about that.
Anyway, it seemed like a good idea to write about my just-under-the-surface rage in case you run into me (perhaps literally) somewhere out in the world and you’ve just unknowingly unleashed the mamma bear. Could that be the origin of the phase? Maybe mama bear isn’t really protecting her young she’s just had it up to here! Beware.