that I did not notice or care about a lot of the things I notice or care about. My noticing or caring about them seems not to have made one iota of difference to anyone but me. I certainly am not happier because of it.
Yesterday morning I got upset, uselessly but really, by a headline I saw. About something I could not possibly affect. Wasted time.
One of B's great gifts is that he hardly ever gets upset, really, about anything. Outside of slow American baristas and me not talking to him, I find it hard to think of anything which really irritates him much. For that, and for many other things, I have envied him.
Some wag wrote an article or book a while ago called Amusing Ourselves To Death. I sometimes think if I am just Irritating Myself To Death.