I hate the sound of a fly buzzing about the room. I suppose at this point my aversion to the sound could be diagnosed as misophonia. Because I would burn my own house down if I knew it would kill that horrid fly.
So I sit at the table trying to work but go into Hulk-mode every time it gets near my head. I’m here now with a fly swatter on my lap, swatting madly when it comes near.
How much time do I spend swatting at something when I know it’s going to land right beside me if I’m patient? How many times do I burn down something good just to be rid of one thing I don’t like?
How many times have you wasted your energy worrying about something that’s going to go away on its own? How often do you ruin a good day because of one tiny irritant?
We all have a squeaky door, underwear that gives wedgies, an aggravating coworker, a fly buzzing around our heads.
But that doesn’t mean we have to burn the house down.