OK, right up front, I admit it would be stupid of me to bleat too much. Relative to most of this doomed planet's inhabitants, I have a great life and a great lifestyle. No-one, as far as I know, is trying to blow me up, rip me off, or make my life miserable in any other way. Not directly, at least.
Having said that, the last few days have been murderous. One of the downsides of trying to pack so much into life is that precious little slack time is built into the daily plan. If something goes wrong, it can have a flow-on effect, or simply darken the mood so that minor issues seem a great deal worse than they truly are.
Since Thursday, I have felt a rage growing inside me, nourished on an all-too-frequent diet of rude people, bad drivers, being taken for granted, making dumb mistakes, technology meltdowns, and a million other minor irritants. To say it has made me grumpy and angry is an understatement akin to saying that Hitler was misguided.
The manner in which I have dealt with this (admittedly trivial) rough patch has demonstrated, to me at least,that I have slipped dramatically from a few years ago. Strengthened by an almost insatiable appetite for Buddhist literature and learning, that version of David would have laughed the bad mood all the way to Nirvana. Or at least tried to.
Some work to be done, I think.
I have to go to sodding Melbourne for work tomorrow. A day full of planes, taxis and offices. And a gig in Adelaide tomorrow night.