Is it only I, or does everyone have a storehouse of RI, Righteous Indignation?
This night, I pulled the plug on my RI storehouse and let the flames drain into the hall. I am now trying to put the flames back into the box. This mixed metaphor means only this: We have a resident who roams the halls at night shouting. I opened my door and shouted back, expressing my RI.
Once I had flamed, I cooled and reconsidered. That poor old fellow has an incurable malady, Mesotheleoma. It was caused in his case by his occupation. He used to work with automobile brake linings and they used to contain asbestos. Grinding the brake linings to fit the brake drums filled the air, and his lungs with asbestos fiber. Now he has trouble breathing...and it is not going to get any better.
No wonder he is in perpetual distress. And I shouted at him.
When I got over my Righteous Indignation, I began to reconsider: actually, I like to get up and write in my journal at night. He just gave me an excuse to do so.
My RI flared up at the dinner table one night recently. Some slight made my temper flare and I tried to stomp out in RI. But in a wheelchair you cannot stomp out and slam doors. Before I was completely out of the dining room I realized how ridiculous it was, trying to roll quietly out in RI. Just can't have a tantrum in a wheelchair. Instead of swearing, I started laughing at myself.
I am sorry I have an over supply of RI. I am glad it usually passes quickly.