Wednesday, January 04, 2006
What is it with guys? Why do we sometimes do such stupid things?
(Qualify those first lines in whatever way you wish. That is, make it straight guys, Irish guys, red-headed guys - whatever suits you [and fits me] - but it is most assuredly a product of an overabundance of testosterone, as what I am about to relate is almost never done by anyone but guys, of whatever type. Just clearing up any ideas you might have had that this might be blatantly sexist for no good reason.)
Yesterday, I opened my browser (Firefox) only to discover that all of my links were gone. Where did they go to? God only knows, and maybe not even him. They had just totally disappeared. I tried everything I knew of to discover where they had gone to, but I couldn't find any record of them anywhere. I had no means at my disposal to recover them. They were lost and gone forever, so far as I could tell.
(Now, don't leave a comment telling me how stupid I am and all I had to do was such-and-thus to get them back. I really don't want to hear it. I might want that information in the future, should this happen again, but I think it might end up being superfluous at that time as I will probably shoot myself. However, I digress, and I apologize. For now.)
Of course, this is the type of thing that does not get one's day off to a wonderful start. I had a collection of about 30 links that I used on a more-or-less regular basis. Now I would have to try to find all of these sites once again, via hit-or-miss googling of what I could remember.
As I became more and more angry with this situation, I knew what was coming, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop myself from doing it, even though there was no good going to come of it.
So, I hauled off and punched my desk.
(This is how I usually picture myself at times like these. I could have used a picture of The Hulk, but I'm being honest.)
Now, usually when I punch something, no lasting physical harm occurs. I mean, I've crushed a door - actually put my fist through it, and took it off of its hinges - and I was none the worse for wear afterwards. I once punched a kitchen chair so hard that the back of it flew off and landed about five feet across the kitchen. Neither of these idiotic gestures harmed me, though, and that's the important thing. And that's the way it has always been whenever I've punched something.
Note that I say "something", as opposed to somebody. I've always felt that punching a wall, a chair, a thing, is acceptable when the alternative might be me punching an actual person sometime later on.
(Although I haven't punched a human being since around 1975, as I recall. Not that I haven't wanted to...)
Anyway, I figure it's one heck of a lot better for me to let some steam off on some sort of wood product than to let it all keep building to the point where the first person who says something that they think is innocuous ("Hi, Baldy!") triggers a volcanic eruption wherein I bust them up instead of my making kindling out of a door.
(No amateur psychoanalysis, please. Yes, I am sometimes filled with rage. No, I do not need anger management. I manage my anger just fine, thank you. You do NOT want to argue with me about it. I'm telling you - stop right now! If you keep it up, I'll rip out your lungs and use 'em for party balloons!!!)
Sorry. So, anyway, it's usually no problem. I patch up or throw out whatever I beat up on and then I get on with my life. Except this time, I finally did some physical harm to myself. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. I'm almost 50-years-old, after all. Maybe I've been extremely lucky not to have done something like this before as I went around making inanimate objects cower at my thunder-god-like might.
This time, I think I may have broken a bone in my hand. It hurts pretty bad. I'm going to give it a day and see if it feels better. Maybe it's just a really bad bruise and if I keep it iced, it will be OK in a day or two. We'll see.
In the meantime, stay the hell out of my way, if you're a desk.
ADDENDUM: Yes, I broke my hand. I did not seek a doctor's opinion on this, but it became obvious. It healed on its own - not without some pain, but nothing I couldn't handle, so why run up a medical bill? - but I have a small lump on the back of my hand now. I have not punched my desk since, but it still cowers whenever I'm around.