Rage

I tend to be a pretty even tempered person, and I pride myself on it. In the past week however, I can tell that too much work, too little sleep, and a long to-do list are starting to get to me. In today's New York Times, there was an interesting article by Natalie Angier (check out her book "Woman") about cursing and how it has been around as long as language itself. I took note that some people curse more when they are under stress. Apparently it's a way to relieve tension and not explode. Angier also reported that people tend to swear more around people they know and like. My poor office -- I've been cursing like a sailor this week. Thankfully, they know and like me, and vice verse. Anyway, I guess things came to a head tonight because I expressed my rage and frustration in a very Hollywood way. The house next door to me is under construction. I can handle the noise. The problem is the sloppy workers. They somehow manage to sling concrete in my yard and on two occasions, have covered my car with it. Fortunately, whatever mixture they use washes off without damage to the finish of my car. There are also wood, nails, and screws all over. As a result of the mess and noise, my dogs are afraid to go out and have been leaving little puddles and piles around the house and on my favorite rug. I've complained and cajoled, and the workers often apologize and clean up. But last Friday I cursed. I was on my way out the door when a worker dumped a bucket of trash into my yard. Forgetting it was Friday and a mosque is nearby, I yelled, "WTF?!" The guy shrugged and I lit into his colleague in a mixture of Arabic and English. More complaints were made to the owner and yesterday they cleaned up much of the mess. Tonight, however, after a long and stressful day, I pulled into my driveway to again find the mesh screening that is supposed to protect my home from their mess, flapping in the wind and wooden boards in the driveway. In a fit of pique -- but after I changed out of my suit and good shoes -- I went out determined to pull down all the sheeting. I tugged and tugged, but only managed to tear it more. The bottom half made it into my yard, but they did a pretty good job of securing the top. Plan B: Using one of the boards in the yard, and glad I had a tetanus shot, I shoved all the sheeting over the wall, tossing the boards afterwards. In the end, it was a comical sight and made me laugh. I found another way to relieve stress. What do you do when it all gets to be too much?