The Crumbling Wall

I was out for a stroll last week and spotted this damaged wall. A six-foot section at the bottom of the wall appeared to have crumbled away.

The sight put me in a bad mood. It was an eyesore. Somebody was clearly to blame for this. My mind boiled over with accusing questions. Had some careless or intoxicated driver overshot the parking space and smashed into the wall? Had the wall contractor bungled the wall's design? Had the contractor skimped on the cement in order to cut costs and thereby weakened the wall's structural integrity? Were the contractor's laborers a crew of illegals from Mexico, accustomed to adobe clay instead of concrete?

As I approached the wall, I viewed the damage from a different angle.



All right, the wall was intact. My eyes had been fooled by a heap of dirty snow. Regardless of this reality, I still felt a lingering grudge against the hypothetical bad driver, the hypothetical crooked contractor, and the hypothetical incompetent laborers.

Apparently, I have pent up aggravation and am primed to discharge my ire against any perceived target. I shall have to make a determined effort to relax and sweeten my disposition.