I’m jotting this down for Danny, Katie, Grandma and perhaps Teton Tom. Everyone else either witnessed, or heard me talk about kicking a hole through the wall. I didn’t think I was the type. I’ve never kicked or punched through a wall before, so I was as shocked as anyone when I did it. Fortunately, this happened in the old place that is about to fall to the ground anyway.

I don’t recall why I was opening the freezer, but the moment I did, the ice cream tub lurched out at me, and raced to the floor to smash my toe before I would have a chance to move it. The tub met its objective, and I bent over angry (and in pain) to shove it back in the freezer. I was looking forward to jamming the ice cream back in the freezer in a manner that would demonstrate my authority over unruly foodstuffs. As I rose with conviction and a sense of impending justice, I cracked my head on the freezer door I had left open.

I lost it.

Wild-eyed, I looked around the kitchen for something to destroy. There were no destroyables anywhere in sight, so I kicked the wall in frustration. In all honesty, I thought I kicked the wall about how Alison used to kick a soccer ball. I didn’t want to kick through it, but I did.

Talk about being the loser of the day. The freezer and ice cream had both ganged up on me, and had bested me outright. What do I do, I wheel around and kick the innocent wall. I should have taken that delinquent tub of peaches and fat and beat it flat on the front lawn with a hammer. You can bet I’ll do it right next time.

It was my own folly to stand proudly above wall punchers and bike throwers. I now stand proudly with them.