I can feel it. The anger. Simmering, boiling, waiting to erupt, to only leave a trail of destruction. I hate that it has such a hold on me. But I am also thankful that I am aware. That I am feeling angry. That it is a fleeting emotion. Of the sullen faces at home if I succumb to it.
The very simple, enormously difficult, and the only sensible thing to do is to not react. Give anger the time and space it needs to pass. To just sit tight. The damage is done, what good comes out of fighting over spoilt milk?
Somehow writing these few lines has magically calmed me down and allowed the intensity of the emotion to pass. Da, who is blissfully unaware of what’s brewing in my head and is snoring away to glory, must thank his lucky stars that a domestic disaster has been averted (or has it? Only time will tell!).
In case you are wondering what this hullabulla is about. I warned about icy driveway and walkway last night. But according to the facts he had in front of him (warmer temperature), there was no need to rush to the store to get salt because the chances of having black ice is unlikely given the temperature. Not only that he asked me to check if my shoes have worn out. Grrr….!!! Poor Hari had to pay the price by slipping and sliding in the walkaway when he returned from cricket practice late last night.
That’s my friday morning quota of much ado about nothing. Thanks for reading people.