Not Worth The Jail Time

I lack patience. The older I get, the less patience I possess and the shorter my attention span seems to get. Traffic lights, pedestrians, the car in front of me, indecisive shoppers, disorientated tourists – I am not good at waiting. I never really have been. But it’s not worth the trouble it would cause to lose my cool every time I have to delay gratification. It’s not socially acceptable to scream and swear at every red light, every pedestrian, tourist, shopper, every small delay or obstacle. So all that’s left is to take a deep breath, count to ten, consider the repercussions of possibly taking a little longer to do something than I’d ideally like to take. Those consequences are seldom serious, seldom life- or even job-threatening, seldom significant enough to register on the grander scale of things that will still make my blood boil tomorrow, that really: losing my temper and murdering the cause of my frustration? Not worth the jail time. (Assume meditative pose and repeat until smiling).