See, I live life in a bit of a bubble. I run around and feel everything’s right with the world. Then something comes along and bumps into my bubble.
Mind you, nothing has burst that bubble. It’s only been bumped. For five years, I’ve been parking in the same parking space just outside my front door. No one said I could, no one gave it to me, it was just that no one else needed it or wanted it, so it was mine de facto. So I parked there and my bubble, which is my happy, expanded to include the little parking spot outside my door.
A few days ago, someone bumped into my happy by taking my parking space. It sent me on a downward spiral of seething anger and vicious rants against all humanity. And it made me make statements about the parental lineage of the individuals who took it. Mostly I wondered why someone who lives in a completely different building from me would park in front of these apartments rather than their own. WTF?
But that’s not the first time something’s bumped into my happy.
I got mad because the new neighbors who moved in last month directly over us brought a yippy little dog with them and it never STFUs. EVAR. That gets annoying. They tune it out until they scream bloody murder at the animal, and it goes quiet for a few minutes before launching into a new campaign of yippy little barks and howls. I hate that little f**ker, and I’m a dog person.
That bumped into my happy. The kids who lived above us probably thought we were absolute white TRASH because I scream and swear like a drunken sailor at: Traffic, noise, birds singing too early, birds singing too late, traffic, traffic noise, the lawn maintenance crew, snow, heat, rain in the heat, geese who crap on my car, geese who may crap on my car, football games, traffic, stupid television shows, noise, people displaying supreme stupidity on the Internet, traffic, noise…
You get the idea.
So, in light of how polite, quiet and well-natured they were, we probably seemed a lot like the people who belong in a rusty, leaning muffin-top trailer parked in a place with a buzzing neon sign missing a couple of letters, and where flies congregate for company, and people missing some or all of their teeth scream from the rickety, creaking aluminum stairs tumbling from the door for their barefoot and dirt-smudged children to come to supper. I can only imagine.
So when they moved out – and I said to my wife the same day we were going to get a-holes to replace them – I knew I’d be sorry. We’ve been lucky for five years, with terrific neighbors who were courteous and quiet and easy to live with.
So these ignoramuses moved in and bumped, repeatedly, into my happy.
So while I’ve ranted and railed against them, my wife found an interesting article which sort of hit me hard, a cold splash of water in the heat of the moment. In that article, someone used the expression “bumping into my happy” to describe things which aren’t really any reason to be upset or concerned, but just … well, bump into our happy.
It sank deep into me, but I’m not sure how deep yet. I still found myself irritated and gritting my teeth when the yippy little dog upstairs began the ceaseless yapping. I don’t know how I’ll react if my parking space becomes unavailable consistently. I don’t know if being inconvenienced is ever going to become easier, less aggravating, and stop making me blow my stack.
There are many, many things about which to get angry legitimately. The challenge for me now is to determine when those things are real, and when they just bump into my happy.
How about you? What bumps your happy? And what makes you angry and should? Can you tell the difference?
Copyright 2011 DarcKnyt, All rights reserved