The Long Walk

I was angry.  More angry than I've been in a long, long time.

Last night two of my children, while playing, poked a series of small holes in the wall of their bedroom.  A bedroom in a historic, 150 year-old home that we don't own.

No, it wasn't a wall that had original 1864 this or that.
Yes, I can repair the damage.

But it was the straw that broke this camel's back. I was pissed off.

....

First, let me frame this incident by saying that, since we moved in here six months ago I have laid down a set of rules in this house that have, to date, gone by the wayside.  So much so, that I gave up trying to enforce my silly little rules some time ago.

....

Fast-forward to last night.  When the children poked holes in a wall, thinking nothing of it, I lost my temper, and lost it good.  I behaved like a lunatic until I decided it was time to remove myself from the situation.

I put on a jacket and walked out the door.  I turned left and walked through the park and kept walking and walking and walking.  I walked for almost a full hour, until I thought about my wife, and how she was back at the house, dealing with the uncontrollable little monsters we call kids.

Then I started to feel a little guilty.  I didn't tell anyone where I was going - I just left.  "My wife must be wondering where I am!  She must be very worried."

I decided it was time to go home.  I made my way through the streets, feeling somewhat uncomfortable and ashamed.  I arrived at the door and opened it.  The house was quiet.  I removed my coat and hung it in the usual place (over my chair).  I walked into the next room where my wife was busy typing on her laptop.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah.  I guess I just needed to go for a long walk to cool off."

"You went for a walk???  We thought you were in the bathroom!"


  
... Yeah.