I made a silly mistake today, just before heading to Prayers, rushing a task I could easily have put on hold. The error was no big deal, but since it was eminently avoidable I found it particularly irritating, and, most irritating of all was the fact that I'm still prone to falling prey to what I know is a correctable fault of character.
The fault became painfully apparent to me in my teens, and I knew then exactly where it came from. I'm not blaming Mum, you understand, just facing the truth that whatever genetic material caused her to unnecessarily rush her way through life was passed on to me. I realised then that I seemed programmed to need to do everything at double-speed and get frustrated when the world didn't cooperate. The fact that this behaviour exactly mirrored that of my mother, and that I could see clearly the absurdity of her frustration, was painful but salutary. I vowed to get a grip on the tendency and have spent years occasionally, indeed often, succeeding and, sadly, equally often failing to do so.
On a daily basis I can still get irritated when stuck walking behind someone who insists on moving at a snail's pace - i.e., what to most people is obviously normal speed. Exiting the masjid just now I had to remind myself that not everyone felt impelled to get themselves back to work as fast as possible and they were a good deal healthier in that respect than the poor fool who did.