TOD 11.15.07

Whose fault is it when I stub my toe on the Legos my children leave out in the middle of the floor? Whose fault is it when I bump my head on the cabinet corner of the incredibly poorly designed kitchen I’ve been using for the last two years? Whose fault is it when there’s construction on the only construction-free route to work I’ve discovered on a day when I’m already running late for a meeting?

Well, of course, the right person to blame is my children, the cabinet-installer, and the construction crew. At least, that’s the conclusion you would draw from my frustrated reaction to these events. But the real answer in all of these cases, of course, is that it’s my fault. I have eyes to see Legos, the cabinets don’t move, and surely I could have left for work earlier. But if I think too much about these facts, then I lose the justification of my righteous wrath.

So, who’s responsible for the anger I choose to feel and the frustration I choose to express in response to these things? Probably the same guy who prefers to criticize others rather than himself. Now if only I could find that guy to blame.