Something strange happened to me the other day. I was at the office, sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I got an overwhelming, almost uncontrollable urge to slap the bejesus out of a colleague who was telling a group of us a story. And it wasn’t just the story-teller I wanted to slap; it would have been delightful to slap the piss out of every single person sitting there listening. Where was this sudden animosity toward individuals I considered good friends coming from? Was it a full moon? A case of hormone imbalance? Demonic possession? Cabin fever?

I don’t mind telling you this phenomenon frightened me to the point of excusing myself to walk around the floor to figure things out. I tried to come up with reasons for my aggressive impulses but after several minutes of thoroughly berating myself for my inherent bitchiness and wondering why I couldn’t be sweet and nice to everyone around me like so-and-so, it occurred to me that I was bored. Yes, bored. What a revelation! Who knew that a simple case of extreme ennui could provoke violent thoughts? It was as good an explanation as any, I guessed. But how to rid myself of these unacceptable thoughts? Nothing came to mind. So I decided instead of fighting it, I’d embrace my hostility.

Now don’t get all excited; I don’t mean I’d actually slap people around every time things got a little monotonous. I’m no fool; they lock you up for that. Instead, my plan was to create a mental, or virtual Thunder Dome and go at whoever happened to be around when that wave of boredom came over me. Outwardly, I’d smile and continue to do my job; inwardly, the battle would rage on until the hapless target of my violence gave up and cried out, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” And my answer would always be the same: “Because I just don’t like your face.”