I got a call this morning that really made me mad. Nope. It made me furious! I stomped around the house mumbling expletives and yelling at the other person as if they were in the room with me.
My husband and my dog snuck outside to hide and that’s when I decided I need some Dirty Therapy. I grabbed a spade, my garden gloves and the packets of seeds I’d ordered last winter. Heading outside I tore into the old vegetable beds, shoveling compost and turning the soil.
I continued to curse as I knelt on the ground — well, my idea of cursing which went something like this: “Wrasser, frasser, stupid woman.”
Throwing my garden gloves to the side I dug my hands into the dirt, pausing occasionally to shake my fist in the air and shout at Stupid Woman. The neighbor’s dogs came to the fence to stare at the crazy human rolling in the mud. I accepted them as my audience and began anew. “I mean, really? How dare she?” I asked. They agreed Stupid Woman was totally out of line.
A few hours later, as I worked the soil, loosening the clumps, letting the fine soil run through my fingers, my temper and my conversation cooled. I looked up at my doggy spectators and ruminated, “Perhaps, and I mean – just perhaps.” Here I stuck a dirty forefinger in the air for emphasis. “I’ve done one…” the dalmatian cocked his head to the side. “Okay, maybe two things in my life that might possibly have irritated another person.”
Disgusted with my lack of insight, they wandered off and I concentrated on placing the tiny seeds in the furrows.
Yes, my hands are dirty and sweaty and my hair is sticking out in Crazie style, but I feel a hundred times better than I did this morning. I’m even working on thanking Stupid Woman – because without her I’d probably never gotten my garden planted.
P.S. – If any of you called me this morning, of course YOU are not the stupid woman I’m talking about.