Irritable

 Irritable

Published in Column 8 on 12th May 1993. Once again berating some of my children - at least in part. 

 

First issue of the RD, 1922

I wonder how many other people who read the Reader’s Digest are inspired by the suggestions in their How-To articles – but find carrying them out more like a Drama in Real Life.

I read one article about Dealing with Irritations. The reader is supposed to remember and use the several points listed to avoid becoming angry at petty irritations. But remembering the points in the middle of a hassle isn’t easy. (I know that wives/spouses/partners are there to remind you, but often their reminders only make the situation worse.)

Nevertheless, in case some people out there are more self-controlled than I am, I’ll go through some of the points.

The first suggestion is to keep a daily record of what irritates you. That’s fine, but don’t they think I have enough ideas for my column already? And anyway, wouldn’t I get irritated writing down the same things day after day?

However, here’s Saturday’s list – for what it’s worth. Irritations: my children, all other drivers and the bathroom basin.

It’s a peculiar thing that the children one begets are the people most able in the world to rub you up the wrong way. And worse - they bring in other people’s children to help them do it.

The fruit of one’s loins nettle us with their nagging, they carelessly collect boyfriends of all shapes and sizes, and infuriatingly, they eat the food and don’t clean up afterwards.

‘All other drivers.’ This may be a slight exaggeration. One driver particularly took Saturday’s provocation prize. I was about to turn left into a park at the supermarket when s/he tried to pass me on that side. The other drivers merely pestered me as usual by having no idea of the road rules, or of where they were going, or what I expected of them.

Thirdly, after months of deliberation, I’d spent the morning clearing the bathroom basin drain pipe of its accumulated hairy gunk – and prying broken bits of toothpaste tube out of the overflow. But when I tightened up the joint again the connection started to leak, one petulant drop at a time.

Huh! So much for listing the irritations. Just listing them makes me cantankerous and dyspeptic.

However, this peevish RD article next suggests taking the Pollyanna approach to irritations: When Pollyanna was sent crutches instead of a doll in the family’s missionary parcel, she was able to be glad. Why? Because at least she didn’t have to use the crutches.

Can I be glad about that exasperating driver? At least s/he didn’t hit me. (I can do $800 worth of vexating damage to the car on my own.) But how do I take the Pollyanna approach to the drainpipe leaking? Or to being swamped by kids?

I should be glad the joint didn’t crack with plastic old age when I tightened it up again, or screw itself on awry – permanently. And glad that the kids occasionally eat, sleep and block the doorways at other people’s houses.

The article next says you should Do Something. Don’t let irritation stop you in your tracks.

Well, I could order my kids to each write me a 500 word essay in triplicate tabling their complaints and listing 50 qualities their friends might have. And I could put a bucket under the leak and hope it won’t fill up before I next have the energy and inclination to do something about it.

Next on the list is to accept what you can’t control. This means accepting that the girls’ boyfriends will probably continue to fill up all available corners, which may at least stop the draughts. That other drivers will never be as perfect as me, and that when they make mistakes on the road I should just close my eyes and keep driving.

And thirdly that leaks are part of nature’s way of reinforcing the second law of thermodynamics, and I may as well live with it.

Finally the article tells me to keep my perspective – what will all this matter in eternity? I guess in eternity there’ll be plenty of room for stray boyfriends (or non-stray husbands as they may be by then). And there’ll be plenty of parking space, because there’ll be no cars – which suit the greenies fine.

As for leaking pipes, they’ll be of no importance whatsoever. Since there’s not time in eternity a bucket ought to be able to fill as much as it likes, and never overflow.