Book of Calm

A few years ago my roommate wisely pronounced that I happen to have a lot of unexpressed anger, and one of the venues for expressing that anger happens to be the kitchen. All of this happens to be true: yours truly has a tendency of remembering bad things for prolonged periods of time, and a charming habit of banging the pots and pans, swearing at the oven door, kicking the trash can, and engaging the broom in a kick boxing jousts. So, about two months ago, my roomie gave me a copy of the "Book of Calm" with firm assurances that the methods described there were tried and true, and I should really read it. And since I do not read self-help books on principle (Dean Edell being the rare exception), the book just calmly (pun not intended) stayed next to my computer desk.

Fast forward to last night, when I ended up dedicating more than three hours to "straightening up" the kitchen. When I tried to wash the rice pot, the kitchen was greeted with a loud rhetorical question to the tune of would it have killed anybody to soak the pot after they finished consuming the rice. My roomie was interested in clarifying the matter, and explained to me that the pot was emptied only about half an hour before, therefor the soaking would not have been very useful. After informing him that five minutes would have made a difference, I continued grumbling under my nose. In response to which "The Book of Calm" was recommended again.