There are just some days when I cannot seem to remember how fabulous my life is and I wake up itching for a fight. Today was one of those days. I had to leave the house I was staying at earlier than usual, which meant that I had to wake up earlier than usual. I ended up running late, and upon entering my door found a ceramic jewelry box smashed on the floor, earrings strewn throughout my house. My cats had invented a new game, one that I was not ever planning on playing with them. I had stumbled upon some extra work this week, so my daily routine; meal, running, writing, and meditation had been disrupted, and I am feeling the difference. I went out into the day with my fists in the air, ready to taste blood, not at all like me, an eggplant eating vegetarian gal who tries not to step on the ants or run over frogs crossing the road. Cars would pass me while I was finally running this evening, going well over the speed limit, and my anger would surge. I looked like a maniac, a sweat covered, muttering, red – faced maniac. What is my part in this day? How had I contributed to the madness? An anonymous writer once said, “We shall want to hold ourselves to the course of admitting the things we had done, meanwhile forgiving the wrongs done us, real or fancied.” Most of the wrongs done to me today were fancied. I could have stayed at home last night instead of a friend’s house, allowing for added sleep. I could have refused the extra work. I could have made sure to eat enough and hydrate before my run, lessening the irritability that comes from not enough glucose in the bloodstream. I could have put all of my possessions in plastic containers, as it is not the first time my cats, mostly young cats, have decided to redecorate. And I am writing now. Today I forgot my gratitude and craved the energy that comes with a good ole resentment, broiled to perfection and served with fries. I guess its back to tofu.