Long days and tantrums

We all have 'em - those days when you drop your basket just a bit and surrender to those 'I can't be bothered' feelings. A lovely friend calls it "dropping your toys out of the pram" and has a chocolate mousse recipe to soothe away even the worst of days.

Well, anyway, I had one just the other day. Work finished later than expected, the drive home was long and boring, I nearly missed having a collison with a kangaroo, then had to carry in what felt like a thousand bags of groceries from the car and the trip from the garage to the house (in the dark and cold) involved rolling my ankle off the path. Cue an overflowing rubbish bin, a missing torch, mice in the barbeque and I was headed towards full blown tantrum territory.

You'd think by 29 years of age my tantrum days would be behind me. Well certainly they don't involve screaming and kicking on the floor any more - at least not often :). But I do love a good door slam! Our closest neighbours are at least a km away but I'm still inclined to think that they've heard my banging and crashing as the wooden doors throughout the house get slammed. It's also a pity there are so many sliding doors in the house, they just don't have the same slamming power.

When I lived in an terrace in Paddington I had to refrain from my slamming habit (most of the time anyway) because the doors and handles were so old they were prone to sticking or falling off and I was terrified of being stuck in my bedroom until someone with pliers - usually my brother - came to my rescue. Which if I'd just slammed a door in his face he'd be highly unlikely to do wouldn't he.

But I digress! I didn't slam any doors, but I did yell at myself and stamp my feet. Then I remembered that there was no one there to see me / help me, so the whole display was entirely pointless. Did I feel any better? Maybe for three seconds but there was still dinner to me cooked and groceries to be unpacked etc etc the list goes on. Plus all of sudden a twinge of guilt hit me, there I was dropping my toys while the farmer was driving up and down a paddock for the 11th hour that day - with not a toy spillage in sight. Maybe it's the enormous amount of caffeine he injests or maybe it's doing what he loves but somehow he gets through these 18 hour sowing days with nary a tantrum - at least not ones that I see at home.

So at last I remembered the universal rule of the tantrum - if no one's there to pull you out of the fug, don't have it. And if someone else has had a longer and shitier day that you have, then it's time to suck it up. Or at least take a deep breath, have a shower and start over on the evening.