It’s been a while since I really screwed up around the building, but I screwed up today.
My neighbor below me is an odd woman — even she says so. She walks around singing all the time — I mean, she never stops. But that I don’t mind enough to say anything. No, the action that makes me crazy is that she walks around, all through the spring, pruning shrubs.
I believe that pruning shrubs that are putting on buds is a mistake. Instead of seeking her out, I wrote my feelings on a short note and put it where she would find it, near her mailbox. A truly dumb-ass thing to do. I just got a bang on my door and a tongue-lashing by this woman, and I realized I should have known better.
The only way to change anything around here is to turn it in at the office. I should have done that, instead, I got this vitriolic diatribe about how weird I was and was I f-ed up mentally to care about this? I said no, but she went on, and I let myself get frustrated, which leads to anger, which leads to me sometimes saying things I later regret. Which I did tonight. Vehemently, and with less than polite vocabulary. I am sure that my behavior tonight reinforced her belief that I am insane — a point she repeated several times. I went downstairs a few minutes later, and tried to apologize, and basically learned that she doesn’t accept apologies.
If I had been thinking, I would have understood that there was the place to stop, for sure. But I was strictly going on emotions now, and I called her a bitch and stormed off. I haven’t done that in a while, and it certainly doesn’t accomplish anything. I regretted it as soon as I took the first step, but I was beyond any backing down by then.
And that’s where I sit now, feeling like a child with too much anger and nothing I can do about it. Over a bunch of shrubs. How asinine am I? I am writing this because I can’t figure it out — I thought I overcame that tendency toward emotional overreaction, or at least had the characteristic under good control. But this woman set me off so easily — I reverted to my childhood reactions. The only thing I didn’t do was stomp my feet. Until I got back upstairs. Then, I gave the floor a good hard stomp. What an infant I can be.
Thanks for listening — I’m going to be eating crow for a while, but at least I feel better for having written it down where I can read it over, instead of worrying or stewing in silence. One more thing to bring up to my psychologist tomorrow. Damn!