The Luxury of an Insignificant Problem

There are few things more irritating than someone leaving trash next to the trash can. Not across the room. Not somewhere a trash can was unavailable. Next to it.

The journey was nearly complete.

This is objectively not a significant problem. Nobody's life has been altered. There will be no congressional inquiry. I can pick it up, move it approximately six inches, and continue with my day.

And yet, I have a surprising capacity for being annoyed by things that do not matter. Terrible parking. Slow people occupying the entire grocery aisle. Technology refusing to perform the one task it was specifically designed to perform. Someone loading the dishwasher like a sociopath. I know these things are insignificant. This knowledge does not make them less annoying.

Usually, after giving one of them slightly more attention than it deserves, I have to tell myself to grow up and move on with my life. I do not need to keep renting it space in my head. This works eventually.

There is a tendency to believe that perspective should make us immune to petty irritation. Once you've experienced enough of life, perhaps you're supposed to float serenely above bad parking and malfunctioning websites, grateful that these are the problems before you.

I don't. Sometimes the problem really is just that somebody loaded the dishwasher like a sociopath, and I remain opposed.

I actually think insignificant problems belong in a good life. Having too much contentment can make it easy to lose perspective on why things are enjoyable in the first place. Human beings adjust remarkably quickly to things being fine. Give us enough uninterrupted comfort and eventually someone will become furious about the Wi-Fi. There is something reassuringly ordinary about that.

The same is true of insignificant decisions, although I like those considerably more. Which record should I buy? What should I read next? Which museum should I visit? What should I wear? Where should I wander? What completely unnecessary subject would I like to know far too much about by the end of the day?

None of these decisions matter very much. That's part of their appeal.

I can stand in a record store considering two albums as though the choice has consequences. It doesn't. I can choose one, regret it, buy the other later and somehow civilization continues. Not every decision should matter. Not every problem should matter either.

Sometimes you should be able to complain about terrible parking without someone reminding you to be grateful you have a car. Both things can be true. The parking is terrible. I remain aware of my good fortune. Perspective doesn't require pretending not to be irritated. It just helps with knowing when you've been irritated long enough.

The person blocking the grocery aisle does not need a permanent residence in my thoughts. I don't need to develop theories about their upbringing or general fitness to participate in society. Eventually, I can move around them and get on with my life.

The trash beside the can is even easier. I can complain about it, put it where it belongs and move on.

This is not personal growth. It is waste management.

Maybe that's the luxury of an insignificant problem. It gets to be exactly as stupid as it is. It doesn't represent anything. It doesn't require courage, wisdom, perspective or a new understanding of myself. It just requires someone to put the trash in the actual trash can.

Honestly, we're so close.