I know I say this every Monday, but it’s finally time. Time to sort out my life, start getting up early, eat a good breakfast, go to work with renewed vigour, be nice to my co-workers and not throw anything through windows.
Poor old windows. They’re always the first to suffer during fits of rage, especially since it’s so satisfying to just lob various things right through them. It’s not right, or good, and it’s very expensive. I need the most reliable window replacement Melbourne has to offer, they don’t just grow on trees either. But the previous me just thought it was fun every now and then, even at work when you’re supposed to be putting on a certain air of professionalism.
My therapist in rehab said that I’ve subconsciously trained my mind to see windows as a threat, and also a method of release, but the worst part was that I never exactly felt better as I was picking up a chair and lobbing it through the third-floor office window after Adam ate my macaroni and cheese that was clearly marked with my name, and even if it wasn’t marked with anyone’s name, why would you even eat it, Adam? It’s clearly not yours, you didn’t bring it, and you certainly didn’t marinate the macaroni in mozzarella for 48 hours to achieve that perfect, creamy, cheesy taste!!
And this is usually where I’d be calling in the window repair people to sort out the shards of glass and regret. And Adam would be hiding in the cupboard like the little macaroni-stealing sneak-thief that he is. Instead, I’m taking deep breaths, envisioning my calm as a flock of doves alighting on a mountaintop, and perhaps also throwing in the catharsis of them descending upon Adam and picking him clean to the bone.
All thanks to rehab. And now, I have to finish these cards to all the timber door replacement companies I’ve wronged over the years. Luckily there’s a so sorry I ripped the door of its hinges in a fit of apoplexy card. Wow, these things really are niche nowadays.
-Stacey