Okay, so there I am standing in the back yard, a hundred degrees outside, and a bleeding knuckle from a scrape on the lawnmower (If you’re lost, see “The Mower Fueling Incident.) By now I’ve stopped whining, “Why am I the only one who ever notices what needs to be done around here?” 

I’ve not stopped, but have begun to taper my exaggeration statements, “I canNOT stand this!  This is horrible, terrible, and hideous. My whole day, probably the whole WEEK is shot, now that I’ve got this knuckle BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE.  Okay, a couple of drops hit my shoe.

And, by now I’ver realized that my AUTOMATIC ASSUMPTIONS in the service of my mighty EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM are what caused me to be in this predicatment in the first place. Had I noticed that the cap on the gas can was a funnel . . . but we’ve covered that.  No sense beating myself up, now that I have this gushing bloody finger and messy shoes.

Let’s suppose someone walks up at this moment and points out my disturbing error.  What will be my response? 

Of course.  I’d start dancing some kind of “it’s not my fault” jig.  “Too hot to think . . . stupid lawn mower gas can designers . . . been working too hard . . . I shouldn’t be the one here in this heat mowing to start with . . .”

But here’s the lesson. You’d think there’s no way for me to not come out looking like a nutcase, right?

Here goes, great big ole psychologist’s tip that has taken years to perfect: When some poor soul wanders up and points out your lastest goof, and says,  ”What are you, crazy?” 

You smile and say, “Yes!  As a matter of fact I am CRAZY  and, let me tell you I’m getting WORSE everyday.”

And, there you go.  You don’t have to play that silly, your fault-not my fault game. You’re out. 

Tomorrow: Fear, Part One.

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