I've never kept a job that was truly aggravating, and I was often flip to the point of insubordination. But at my volunteer gigs, I just don't get aggravated - things that would make me crazy if they were paying me just roll right off. I don't give a rip about all the dopey little things other people do or don't do, which makes me realize what a hell of a lot of time I've wasted stewing about work.
I'm not talking about glorious, foaming-at-the-mouth rants; they're great recreation and some (like Emily's) of considerable literary merit. I mean my bleak, turgid, dismal thoughts that swirled and eddied about, gumming up my mind and frizzling everything they touched. It's when I began to believe that people were idiots that I got in trouble. Maybe they were idiots, but it worked out best to give them the benefit of the doubt when I had to work with them.
And now, magically, most of the time, I can let go of that shit and just think, "Hunh! That sounds stupid. Whatever." And not feel compelled to endlessly analyze the idiocy, and crusade to eradicate it.
Except when someone loads the dishwasher wrong. I'm mellowing, not going completely dim!
Things I think about - as jumbled and unrelated as the contents of my garden cart at the end of a nice long day outside: lots of weeds, an empty coffee cup, some prunings, an interesting looking plantlet and a few handy tools.
