It’s early. You are squatting in the kitchen looking for the box of Captain Crunch. Or maybe it’s a frying pan that SOMEbody decided to place not only under, but also behind every other kitchen utensil that you own. You finally grab it, but this victory proves fleeting. For when you stand in a moment of resolute triumph, you are met by a searing pain on the top of your skull.
Within one millisecond, your brain races from shock to pain to blind anger. You become enraged, and your rage needs a direction. Why would my roommate leave this cupboard open like this? What type of carpenter would make cabinets that swing out at head level? Why in the world is there a point sharp enough to cut glass on the bottom corner of this door? The list goes on, and in your blind rage, you grumble and blame just about everyone on the planet (but yourself, of course) that has put you in this throbbing predicament.