As if I wasn’t quite far back into the doghouse enough already (what with the saucy dvd shenanigans), I managed to spend almost my entire working day trading accusation and recrimination by the wonder of text message with my wife (no escape); about how I am definitely not the rounded human being I already knew I wasn’t. I didn’t think I was as bad as all that, but if you look at the post a couple of days ago about having an opinion of my own? Apparently I am.
I need to learn to count to ten (breathe…and relax) and not be so aggressive and confrontational. How I respond to criticism is not healthy, it seems, either for me or my alleged terrified family that apparently dart for cover (must have missed this in my red mist, knife-wielding haze) the minute I can’t find the remote control or step barefoot onto the sonic screwdriver of a lazily discarded Doctor Who collectable.
(say it like a mantra, if you will) I am responsible for my own reaction to criticism, I am responsible for my own reaction to criticism. I am resp….yes, yes, for fucks sake, alright, I know I am. Just don’t wind me the fuck up then! I blame her and she blames me of course. And of course, I am wrong. But then I’m always wrong (no really, I am).
So I shall count to ten from now on and not fly off the handle when things don’t go my way or I am being berated for something else I fucked up on. (Drivesafe, I’m looking at you, and your non-existent reminder email). I will attempt to get over this fairly insurmountable hurdle to begin with, before even trying to smile gratefully whilst getting kicked in the bollocks. I am responsible, after all. Let’s see how calm she wants me to be when some grubby-hooded chav is running off with her purse, shall we….?
PS – Not going to be getting that dvd back anytime soon, I reckon. I blame myself… (I think she should be grateful, frankly. I have a whole world of internet filth to look at, but I’d still rather look at pictures of her)