I enjoy blog surfing. I came across a blog yesterday in which the author declared that they only blogged about positive things in their life. While I find this extremely admirable, I need a space where I can whine and moan and grumble about the things that go on in my life.
While 98% of my troubles fall pretty meaningless in the wide scheme of things, sometimes all those little things add up and become overwhelming. I find writing as a cathartic outlet for my frustration. It's certainly much better than leaving it bottled up inside until it explodes into committing capital murder or ramming something/someone with my car.
Take yesterday, for example. The little things piled up to run me over. With a paint truck.
On my way home from work, I found myself in the third vehicle behind a paint truck. No, not the friendly neighborhood paint company - a "paint the road" kind of truck.
Now, did this road painting really need to happen during rush hour on a weekday. I've been down that road early in the morning, in the middle of the day, on the weekends and later in the evenings - never seeing any sort of construction. So, my frustration level instantly raised three immediately after finding myself behind this DURING RUSH HOUR.
It may be hard to believe, but for about five minutes of crawling behind the paint truck, I was able to remain calm. Frustrated, but calm.
Then, the man in the car in front of me decided to do a 23 point turn in the middle of the road to attempt to find another route (sorry pal, but there is none without going 25 miles out of the way). During one of the many back up-pull-and-turn tries, he came within inches of ramming my Jeep. This kind of stuff makes me livid.
That, plus the desperation I began to feel of needing to move more than .3 miles per hour, sent my anger level through the roof.
My phone rang. By this time, I was in no mood to talk to anyone!
"Hey A!" my brother-in-law (and neighbor) cheerfully says. "I thought you might want to know that there's a paint truck on the highway, so you may want to find a different route."
Me: "Umm, thanks for the head's up, but I'm already stuck in the middle."
B-i-L (laughing): "I know, I know, we just saw you and thought I would rub it in a little. I tried to get you to look as we went by. Didn't you hear me blow the horn?"
Me: "No, there was too much smoke coming out of my ears to hear anything like that."
B-i-L: "Well, we're going out to eat. We'll probably pass you on the way home after we're done."
My brother-in-law, always the practical joker, thought it would be fun to exploit my stuck-in-traffic position. But, strange as it may seem, it did make me laugh.
Then I spent the next thirty minutes stuck-in-traffic figuring out a way to get him back.
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