I didn’t step over the pile of cat-gack on the stairs and leave the clean up for the next unwary morning traveler. Nor did I yell at Beeby for eating the gack-inducing leaf, even though I specifically warned her last night that this would happen.
I didn’t gun my car to ramming speed and take out the person getting paid $75,000 plus benefits to hold the construction zone stop sign that was making me late for work.
I didn’t tell the sour-faced client complaining about his $2 rate increase where he could put the 200 pennies involved.
I didn’t ram my car into the back of the 16-year-old texting while driving, who cut me off in traffic, then stopped to turn left.
I didn’t shout, “Out of my way, you old bag!” at the elderly woman blocking my access to the shopping carts for 10 minutes while she arranged her cane and purse in her cart, and sifted through the contents of an ancient, black taffeta coin purse looking for a coupon.
I didn’t rip the speakers off the wall at the store and throw them through the plate glass window when they played “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” – twice.
I didn’t growl at the well-meaning dolt who ordered me to “Smile- it’s a beautiful day.”
I didn’t present a cattle prod and instructions on how to use it to the oblivious young mother whose screaming children were running unchecked through the store.
I didn’t shake my fist at the fickle sky, wearing its mantle of sunshiny, fluffy-clouded blueness despite my storm cloud mood.
I didn’t pig out at the all-you-can-eat Chinese lunch buffet, nor did I snag a large Cappuccino Heath Blizzard at Dairy Queen for desert.
I didn’t put my brain through my computer monitor, despite overwhelming evidence that the two were no longer able to work together to put words in anything remotely resembling a pleasing order.
I didn’t allow my car to head for the highway after work, though it took superhuman strength to keep the steering wheel from taking us to the road bound for somewhere else. Anywhere else.
I didn’t blow off the class I had to go to tonight, despite the certainty that I was headed for 3 hours of mind-numbing boredom.
I didn’t shove the entire 64-count box of brightly colored crayons up the instructor’s nose when she told us, adults all, to use them to draw a picture showing what “diversity means to me”. I also didn’t snort, roll my eyes or yell out “Hah!” when she gave the option to instead compose a poem or an interpretive dance on the same topic. I am not even kidding about this part, God help me.
I didn’t demonstrate the efficiency of the household washrag by using it to painfully scrub my husband’s face after he neglected, yet again, to clean the food-besmirched kitchen counters. This despite our ongoing feud with a determined band of hungry mice.
Today I woke up in a cloud of apathy, slid quickly down the rainbow of gloom and landed in a puddle of discontent. I wallowed around in it all day.
Despite overwhelming provocation, I didn’t do any of the things I was sorely tempted to do, and avoided drowning anyone else in my huge pond of crabby.
I guess that means it was a pretty good day.