One of the problems with lying as much as I do is that it makes it a lot harder to tell the truth and have anyone believe you but here goes anyway: one of the big advantages of staying sober for a long time and working a complex, mulitilayered spiritual program is that my resentment level is way, way down and my resentment list is much, much shorter. So many things that used to trigger resentments I let slide today so that I almost walk on water in my complex, multilayered spiritual state.
And then . . .
I mentioned being called on the carpet as a donut rule breaker and how this triggered a little flash of annoyance. I pay a hefty chunk of money monthly on site rent and don't use any of the facilities in the complex which - to my thinking - entitles me to a fucking donut every couple of weeks, despite the rule - the new rule - which states that if I want a donut I have to eat the donut in the clubhouse. The fact that it's a dumb rule isn't the point. SuperK likes to point out the too frequent instances where I "think I'm special that the rules - if dumb - don't apply to me." If something is dumb I don't like to do it. I'd like to be exempt from the rule, to be an exception.
When I got home after the donut shaming I used my wife as a venting board to detail some possible twisted schemes and proposals. In my defense I wasn't really mad and no real resentment developed and I never seriously considered doing any of these things but the fact they popped into my mind so quickly and effortlessly points to some still lingering character flaws, calling into question exactly how far I could walk on the hypothetical water.
My first thought was to open the clubhouse door and put one foot outside, one foot inside, and eat the donut in that position, arguing what constitutes being "in" the clubhouse legally. I then imagined taking my donut and strolling slowly, menacingly out to the furthest reach of the clubhouse grounds - not physically in the clubhouse but pretty close to the clubhouse - and eat the donut there, strategically positioning myself where everyone could see me bending the rules to the breaking point, asking them to prove in a court of law what the "clubhouse" was, exactly. Would I be technically following the rule or still in breach of contract? At my most sinister I could take my donut, sit down at one of the tables, in full compliance of the rules, nibble the tiniest corner off the donut, then throw the rest of it away, slowly and in full view of whoever put up that sign.
These are not the thoughts of an individual free from all resentments.
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