The "lost" wallet

My “gift” from the Universe hasn’t arrived yet. I’m imagining Ms. U in line at the post office. She’s waiting, doing some re-centering breathing, and feeling herself age as she watches the wall clock creep forward faster than the queue. When she finally gets to the counter, she discovers she hasn’t got the correct postage and can’t pay the overage. (What? You thought the Universe carries a purse?)  Annoyed,  she goes back to her 2 bedroom flat on Cosmos Circle, her contribution to my 30 Day Annoyance Challenge, tucked under her arm.

It’s OK. I’ll wait. In the meantime, the only thing annoying that happened yesterday wasn’t even all that.

Scene: I’ve just ensconced myself on the living room couch, a blanket for my feet (it’s unseasonably cold here in Northern California) and a cup of hot chocolate to fortify myself against the ice storm threatening outside. I’m all set to continue reading Schuyler’s Monster: A Father’s Journey with his Wordless Daughter by Robert Rummel-Hudson.

Pause. You may be thinking: “Laying on the couch reading on a Tuesday afternoon? No offense, but what kind of sloth is this woman??” No offense taken. I’m the self-employed kind. A writer who also does the seasonal work of student assemblies and parent education events… none of which happen after early May. But don’t worry about me, I’ll be back at it in September.

Unpause. I was reading Rob’s book in preparation for my podcast interview with him next Wednesday. (See… legitimate work! Unpaid, yes, but totally valuable.) I’m only sixty seconds into this cozy reading session when the phone rings. And the phone’s way over there, in the kitchen. So, yes, I’m feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption, but we free-lancers don’t let a ringing phone go unattended so I hop up, taking my annoyance and cold feet with me and run into the kitchen. But the kitchen phone’s not in the kitchen. (Did anyone see the phone?) Ringgggg.  (David?! Hmph. Must be on his office phone.) Ringgggg. I race into the family room and pick up that phone.

Annie (annoyance under control, professional voice in gear): Hello, this is Annie.

Ezra: Hey, Mom.

Annie (all annoyance instantly disappates replaced by love, joy and curiosity): Hey, Ez. What’s up?

Seems Ezra believes he may have left his wallet in our car after our weekend road trip to LA. Would I please take a look? What a question! Of course, I’ll look!  I’m his mom. I live to serve.

So I put on my shoes, search for the garage door key, find it, trot out the front door, close the door, skip down the front steps, open the front gate, close the gate, use the key to activate the garage door, duck under as it yawns, open the back door of the car, see the wallet lying on the empty back seat, grab it, exit car, slam door, push garage door button, duck while it closes, open gate, close gate, trot up steps, open front door, close it, run back into family room, pick up phone. Elapsed time: 45 seconds

Annie: Hey Ez, if you wanted to play a game, you should have done a better job hiding the wallet. It was on the seat. Next to where you were sitting.

Ez: Cool! Thanks Mom!

Annie: You’re welcome, sweetie.

By the time I made it back to the couch, the blanket, the (less than) hot chocolate and the book, I started thinking: If that was a telemarketer I would have been pissed. Even though it would have taken much less time to say “Sorry I’m not interested and could you please take me off of your list and NOT CALL AGAIN!?”

But because it was Ezra, I immediately dropped my annoyance and replaced it with an eagerness to help him.

So, here’s the Annoyance Challenge probing question of the day: When you say “certain things just annoy me” that’s only half the story. It’s not just the occurrences, but who’s doing what. Obviously there are special people in our lives who may get a free pass even when they do something that would otherwise annoy us if someone else did it. Likewise, I’m thinking that there are certain people, that no matter what they do or say (“Hi. How’s it going?” “Nice pants.”) we automatically feel annoyed and might lash out. Seems unfair. Unproductive. So what’s with that? And how can we gain better control over those feelings because the world doesn’t need any more irritated, irrational folks (with or without guns).

Universe: ‘Nuff of them!