A friend was describing how he felt in the few months before two not entirely welcome relatives came to visit. In order to get a jump start on complaining, he imagined the lame comments, and clumsy interactions that were no doubt on their way to his routine. By the time they arrived he had a solid case built for how badly this would go. 

 

Then the person and his wife, whom he had already decided he would be put out by, stepped from the car. The conversation began around the yard, which to be honest is a pet project of his. They were generous in their appreciation. Which did not fit with his expectations. In fact, and this was hard to admit, they were quite enjoyable. 

 

Darn.

 

Looking back he noticed how much time he had wasted on imagined conflict. Falsity, to call a spade a spade. There is a book whose title includes the words "the pleasures of insanity". Which sounds harsh, until I look in the mirror. There exists a boorish appeal to making up stories about people. Handing out blame like flyers in a parking lot. 

 

How different it is to let those infertile thoughts lie dormant, while spending more time cultivating ones that actually bring life.