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The not-fun part is that I am in the out-of-body stage of my process in dealing with this unpleasant personality trait. Meaning, I watch myself in full cranky-butt mode without any ability to dial it back except to escape to an empty room and think on my sins. Which is also not-fun, but at least I’m not annoying anyone else while I’m adding up the counts for each offense.
So far, I’ve got:
- 4 counts of arguing as long as it took to wear the other person out in order to be “right.”
- 3 counts of complaining about the doctor appointment scheduling process after waiting for 90 minutes on hold only to learn they were trying to schedule an appointment for something I’d already had an appointment for.
- 16 counts of heavy sighs in reference to something my husband did imperfectly or not to my standards.
- 32 counts of rolling my eyes out of exasperation, coupled with this recurring phrase running through my mind: “What an idiot.”
- 6 counts of resentful thoughts about having to detangle caregiver logistics so that my husband and I can go out with friends for dinner, which we never do anymore because I’ve become totally picky and paranoid about which night we go out on, where we go, and whether there will be alcohol involved, and if not, deciding whether to carry or not. It’s complicated.
- 22 counts of failure to trust in what The Almighty HAD JUST SHOWN ME as soon as I walk out of my prayer room.
- 14.5 counts of suspecting loitering persons at the gym who are dressed from head to toe in black, including a black face mask, of planning some nefarious act of violence against the innocents in their ridiculously tight and “inappropriate for an over 50-year-old woman to wear in public” leggings … along with the guys who don’t look scary, and complaining about the loiterers and their “against the rules” backpacks to the people at the front desk. I’m known as “Oh, herrrrr.”
- 5 counts of neighborhood cruiser monitoring, meaning I watch for cars driving slower than normal that slow down even more as they move from porch by porch, presumably looking for packages they can steal. The last two slow-cars stopped in front of our house while I stood on the front porch with my arms folded, trying to look intimidating. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds … like, “Yeah, I see you too, sweetheart.”
- And finally, 227 counts of redoing my husbands housework behind his back because it’s easier for me to just do the job “right.”
Today I went to the gym. Oh, I forgot. Add two more counts to the “persons loitering at the gym” offense. Anyway, one of the trainers there, Wardell, asked me if I’d made any New Year resolutions. I gave him an unwarranted snark-toned answer.
He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He’s no dummy.
“Just taking it a day at a time. Good to see you.”
And I walked off and down the stairs and left the building and immediately tried to break into a car that was not my own.
It’s the second time it’s happened. I have a new SUV, and it looks like every other grey SUV on the road. Some guy across the parking lot started laughing.
I deserved it.
P.S. On an unrelated topic, please pray for Damar Hamlin. It feels like this is something pivotal, a God-movement in the making, a long-missed display of unity in love, and prayers without ceasing from millions of people. He hears yours, so please take a moment to think on Damar, a young man with good character who has inspired many … and I venture to say that most of them don’t even realize why.
The young man has Christ in him.Published in