An Introspection

I don't guess I'm going to be able to avoid introspection altogether, so I think I'd better have a go at it early on. This is not to say it'll never happen again;that would be more like attempting to prevent a zit by dotting your face with a felt marker. Nevertheless:

Today I hit my finger a glancing blow when my "adjustable" wrench slipped. In my pain and frustration I flung the thing at the wall accompanied by a stream of spiced invective describing its lack of legitimate parentage and malfeasance in general. Then very quickly and naturally I looked at my wrench and offered an ashamed, "sorry".

I would not have thought that I was in the habit of apologizing to inanimate objects, and yet having caught myself, it suddenly became clear that I have done so for years.I now realize that I usually mutter my apology rather superstitiously under my breath. It would probably be unlucky to be overheard by anyone other than the object. To say that I was astonished would be to put it mildly. However, in spite of my shock, it occurred to me to dig for a deeper meaning. Well, it was either that or admit to myself I was goofy.

The trouble with that is I am no good at philosophizing. Oh, I have done the required reading, attempted the rationalizations, accepted fate etc., and all I get is a vague sense of anxiety when at the end I'm left without a resolution. I just hate it when I lose my plan.
However, existentialism is attractive to me, because I think it means that everyone is responsible for his own existence, that you cannot assign blame without accepting it. I mean fair is fair, of course, so if I wrongfully blame a tool for something that's my fault, shouldn't I apologize? To it?

Actually, no, I shouldn't. Going any further with this line of reasoning would very soon have led me to supporting the proposition that the wrench is sentient, and that would without a doubt bring on an anxiety attack. I believe I'll settle for being goofy. Lookout.

Regards, Daddy