The magic power of "Fuck it."

[I accidentally stomped on Twila's "Odd Days" post, which is under this one.]

My dear wife, whom most of you know as "Twila", is sometimes driven to distraction by trivial annoyances or obsessions. I, the self-proclaimed philosopher in our family, advise her to (as they say) chill, don't sweat the small stuff, go with the flow, fuck it. There are so many irritations in day-to-day life that it isn't possible to find justice in every situation, and attempting to do so is more harmful than helpful. ("Twila", under my sage-like guidance, has become much better at recognizing cliches.)

Yet recently I've found myself feeling like a bomb ready to explode, in spite of a liberal application of pharmaceutical remedies, a poor human whose internal pressure was threatening to exceed 14.7 psi, and you know what that would mean. (If not, ask Carl.)

It's diabolical. I mean, there you are, skipping along with a devil-may-care attitude, and then you trip, so you start to walk instead of skip, and then you find yourself tripping over every bump in the sidewalk. You start to obsess over that first bump. You really want to go back there with a sledge hammer and flatten it, so that no-one else will trip, but also because you hate it. And that obsession with the first bump weakens your resistance to other bumps, and before long you're seething, Mt. Etna in human form.

That was me.

What woke me was a purchase I made on Amazon.com, a company that owes to me a large part of its success. A couple of days ago I searched for and found an item that I was considering as an XMess gift. It's cool, but the shipping charge is $20, which I think is a lot. These items (which I cannot, for obvious reasons, describe here) come in various sizes and shapes, and while perusing those on Amazon I found one size/shape that had free shipping! So I ordered it. And then I got a bill and they'd charged $20 for shipping.

GRRRR!

My psyche already weakened by BetOnline, I went ballistic. I wrote to the company that produces the item and told them I won't pay the shipping, that I'll tell my bank not to pay the shipping charge, etc. I'm sure you all know the drill.

Then, with my internal pressure at 14.8 psi, I finally realized what was happening. I'd been skipping, I'd tripped, I was out of control. So I said, "Fuck it."

That was a blessed moment.

The XMess item company wrote and said they'd ship me a new item for free (in my preferred shape) and that I could keep the one I have. I told them no and apologized. Then I sent BetOnline scans of both sides of my debit card and requested to withdraw my funds. But the best part is, I'm not angry anymore. (That's even better than the soon-I-will-get-a-check-for-$977 part.)

I have at least a few days now to enjoy this mellow state. I've also freed many future hours from having to destroy a company that might not be above, as Anonymous suggested, breaking my legs.

Life is good.