Sweating small stuff makes me perspire

Harrison Heyl

You know that book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff? I’m the exact opposite. I sweat that small stuff.

The big things, I’m good at. Death in the family: It was their time. Serious illness: God’s plan.

It’s the little things I get upset over.

For example, if I can’t find something — even something dumb like my Siegfried & Roy Home Lion Taming Kit and Matching Tourniquet Set — if it’s not in the very first place I look, I go completely berserk. I cuss at the top of my lungs — horrible things, too, things that would raise eyebrows at Pelican Bay State Penitentiary — I gouge my eyes in a fit of frustration, and the whole affair casts a black shadow over my mood for the rest of the day.

I take my frustration out on the people closest to me. Honey, what the hell did you do with my Pest Control Gel for Sensitive Groins?

I immediately jump to conclusions. I’ve been robbed. Someone — probably a close friend of the family — climbed the trellis to the second story, somehow jimmied their way through the window and stole my Barbershop Quartet Monsta Jams CD.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I’ve just misplaced the object in question. My Rodney Dangerfield Do-It-Yourself Sausage Casings Accessory Kit turns up.

Then I have to apologize. “Mom, I’m sorry I said those horrible things to you. You are not a conniving slug-wench, I just said that because I was upset. I’ve called the District Attorney’s Office and they’ll be dropping the charges first thing in the morning. Forgive me.”

Why do I have so little patience for these kinds of unexpected difficulties in life? Why is a book telling us not to sweat the small stuff a best seller?

I think it’s because we have no time for unexpected delays or unforeseen complications. Cooking, cleaning, bills, chores, errands, overhauling the transmission on the washer/

dryer — the sheer volume of responsibilities in this fast-paced world are enslaving us.

Take home improvement. Some people will spend an entire weekend working on projects around the house: painting rooms, fixing broken fixtures, killing gophers, installing a diesel-powered bidet — I don’t know what these people do, frankly, because I don’t understand this mentality. My free time is earmarked for leisure and recreation, not chores.

My idea of home improvement is flushing the toilet, which I try to work into my weekend schedule. Maybe I’ll crack a window from time to time. Maybe not. These are my projects around the house.

I work all week. Add personal hygiene in there, and I’m completely overwhelmed. I’m already going the extra mile by bathing, don’t bother me any further with burdensome tasks or obligations.

That, my little friends, is why we need a book telling us not to sweat the small stuff.

But the book is no help for me. This book has “100 simple ways to keep the little things from taking over your life.” Thanks! Now I have 100 more things on my to-do list.

How am I supposed to “relax” (Rule No. 58), “stop blaming others” (No. 79) or “lighten up” (No. 83) when the responsibilities the world has laid on my doorstep are eating me alive? How am I supposed to “become a less aggressive driver” (No. 57) when I have to speed past incompetent knuckleheads to yoga class so I can learn to be more centered, calm and at peace?

If we really don’t want to sweat the small stuff, my suggestions boil down to these:

1) Work less.

2) Sleep more.

Two things. Not a hundred.

But until we live more manageable lives in a less hectic world, don’t bother me. I’m overwhelmed. I can’t find my Day-Napper Drool Removal System. Did you touch it?

Harrison Heyl really is a level-headed, mild-mannered Beacon contributor. He can be contacted at h.heyl@verizon.net — but only if it’s really important.