Small Tolerances = Big Stressors

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I’m feeling a little annoyed today. As I was riding the subway into work, I was lucky enough to get a seat and I rode in luxury as I contemplated the cause of my aggravation. I have decided that the cause of my frustration today is what I refer to as “tolerances.” 

Tolerances are little things that are seemingly insignificant (a burned out light bulb, a dish of spaghetti rotting in the fridge, the stack of junk mail on the coffee table). It’s the stuff that when you see it you make some kind of vocal sound like “Sigh,” “Ugh,” “Blech,” or “Grrr.” But it’s such a small thing you push it off until later … later … later …

Problem is if you ignore tolerances for too long, they eventually become one big fat honking pain in the butt. And then instead of five minutes to fix it, you waste a whole day fixing them all. 

Case in point … here are the tolerances running rampant through my apartment:

  • Burned out light bulb in the dining room (going on about four months now …).
  • Not just one, but two empty pizza boxes in my fridge.  Along with a host of Tupperware with unidentified furry contents.
  • The digital photo frame that sits on my bookcase that I have yet to load photos on.
  • Two bags of laundry, mostly socks and underwear that I haven’t put away for two weeks.
  • The two blouses in a bag beside my door that need to be returned.
  • The nail holes that I spackled, but never painted over.
  • Sheet music and CDs that are in uncatalogued stacks surrounding my piano.
  • The baskets and baskets and bowls and bowls of miscellany that are tucked in every corner of my apartment. What is the miscellany, you ask? Lip balm, hair barrettes, zip lock baggies, business cards, ink pens, taxi receipts, coins, mail, postcards for other people’s cabarets, magazines, and electronic cords and gadgets.

Used to be, if I couldn’t find my lip balm I would just head to the single basket of crap and dig around until I found it. But then that basket got full and I needed another basket. And another and another. And now it’s at the point where my “Ugh” and “Blech” has turned to “@$%&*$#!!”

Bleep …bleep …bleep! 

I can’t find my bleep! bleep! lip balm! Where the bleep! are my clean socks! What are you bleeping dogs looking at? I can’t bleeping take it any more!

So this weekend, friends, I will work to rid myself of these small tolerances. There are lots of things I cannot control, or fix so easily. But I this I can do. Having these monkeys off my back will make my life better, easier, less stressful. Then I’ll go to a movie.


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