rare and deadly foot stool

i typed out the message, 'have you ever been angry with me? truly, honestly irritated beyond sarcastic eye-rolling?'

i no longer send these messages, though, the way i once did. after a time, you start to get the sense that what seems like the most urgent and unanswerable conundrum really isn't that critical in the morning.

why do we always feel sicker at night? does the darkness magnify our baser instincts? there must be a scientific explanation, some manner of physiological change meant to keep our gene pool strong.

once, my company sent me to some manner of professional development training, and the guy asked us to pretend we were the captain of the titanic, and asked us to brainstorm how we might have done things better. it was a wonderful exercise given that we were in a heated room, on dry earth, with ample wifi, pipecleaners, doodlepads, fun size candy, and the overbearing aroma of chamomile. and it was miserable thinking that obviously enough time had passed so that the devastating human tragedy could now be reduced to a corporate lesson in teambuilding on an hourly rate.

'put all the people on the iceberg,' i said.

'that is so creative!' the consultant replied.

i died and swam the icy depths and looked for prettily colored rocks in the sand.

so, have i ever made you angry? are you still? i waver between this boyish desire to ignite frustration and get called out for bad behavior and the shame and embarrassment of perpetuating bad habits.

fortunately, morning is never any further than a day away.