Frustration

So The Ravishing Mrs. TB calls me yesterday at work. "The Van is making a noise and gurgling" she said. "I think we'll have to take it in."

My first reaction - Frustration.

"Why me?" I roared to myself in my mind. "Every time it feels like we get ahead just a little bit, something else happens."

I run through the gamut of bad things in my mind, ranting and raving against anything: bad timing, problems, not enough money, undoubtedly some giant plot against me designed by the universe. Somehow frustration at The Ravishing Mrs. TB enters the picture, as if somehow this is caused intentionally.

All my plans, cast aside into the ash heap of the day.

But in the end, who am I frustrated at? Events? The World? God? Or just at my own sense of how the world should run to convenience me?

It's not the event that matters - it's how I react to it.