It was a perfectly reasonable sentiment. She was right. But at the time, trying as hard as I could not to think about smoking, it totally p***ed me off. I suddenly turned into a moody, awful teenager. I yelled, "You don't know what you're talking about!" I leaped out of bed, stormed down the hall and slammed the bathroom door. I had to distract myself from the irrational ire boiling inside of me, so I decided to shave. I shaved so furiously that I'm surprised there's any skin left on my face.
I calmed down after a shower. We both said sorry. And we ended up having a lovely afternoon together with our son. Good food, a Sunday drive and a walk on the beach helped.
I guess I'm not so serene, after all. The sudden rage surprised me. It was like I was possessed. I feel ashamed that I even behaved like that.
But now that I know it can happen to me, too, maybe I can control it a little better.
Maybe a deep breath - and a simple "whatever" - would work better next time.
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