Meltdown Mode

Are there things in your life that drive you absolutely nutzoid? Okay, so nutzoid is not a real word, but I bet all of you understand my drift. I always thought as I got older, I would become more agreeable and more refined. I thought I would be a vessel of justice – a visionary with the ability to see and accept all the many variations of existence. Yes, and I thought kissed toads would turn into princes too.
 
I stopped to get gas yesterday. It is irritating enough to know that filling my tank will completely drain my pocket change for the month, but little did I realize that this event, on this day, would also drain every ounce of my patience.
 
As I exited my car, I was pummeled with noise that could not only wake the dead but most likely wake all drug-induced sleepers on the other side of the planet. The genre of this questionable “music” coming from the vehicle on the adjoining pump was unrecognizable. My eardrums pulsated. I could not even hear myself think. Since all the doors on the car were closed, I tried to imagine what it might sound like inside the car. How does anyone exposed to those decibel levels, especially in an enclosed space, expect to hear anything of importance going on around them? Lord help all drivers in their general vicinity.
 
And then, I just flew off the deep end. Every pet peeve I have ever suffered came alive full throttle. Have you ever uttered the words “I just don’t care” and gotten hit with the “Of course you do” response? Or maybe you have expressed a very poignant personal opinion only to be told “Don’t be ridiculous” or “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” If blood can actually boil, these responses light the fire.
 
Now, I understand that everyone has a right to an opinion. If you are in a focused discussion about any given topic, it is expected to hear both pros and cons on the subject. But when you are engaged in casual exchange, slam-dunking anyone’s thoughts is just rude to me. If I had wanted your opinion, wouldn’t I have asked for it? God gave us filters for a reason. If yours is broken, you might want to consider getting it fixed. I have a long-standing account at the Filter-Fixer Emporium.
 
And then there are the pity party people. You know the type – always the victim. Life has mistreated them so horribly that nothing matters, and no one can understand the pain of their journey. I will admit, I have hosted many a pity party in my lifetime – just nothing that a good movie or a bottle of wine could not fix. I find it sad that most of those people cannot see that there are thousands, maybe millions, of others suffering the exact same thing. We are alone in the battle only in our own thoughts.
 
Obviously, best friends and close family members are excused from these pet peeves. Well, most of them are…usually – or at least sometimes. Unless of course, noise at the gas pump already has me in meltdown mode. Then I suggest we only discuss the weather. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
 

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