My beloved and I have discovered an interesting way to blow off steam and satisfy the urge to kick the crap out of something. We punch toilet paper. Okay, we've only actually done it once, but it was fun and I may very well do it the next time I buy an 8-pack.
He started it. I tossed two packs of Cottonelle on the bed when I came home from shopping one day. I guess he had a little pent-up rage in him and I guess the toilet paper looked really inviting because he slugged it good and hard. Several times, right in the middle of the pack on the Cottonelle lady's face. At first I kind of just looked on in horror (I hate new things -- even toilet paper -- to be damaged in any way). But as I watched him pounding the crap out of the Cottonelle and saw the pleasure it seemed to give him, my horror gave way to curiosity. I started thinking I'd like to take a whack at the other, still pristine pack sitting beside the one he'd just finished pumelling.
He looked at me and smiled. "Go on," he said, "try it."
I did. And it was WONDERFUL. Because I opted for the two fist approach I accidentally whacked my own knuckles together (which ended my session in a blaze of pain) but it was still wonderful. It was exhilarating standing there panting, watching the toilet paper slowly spring back to life. I have to admit it, part of me was still worried about the state of the paper, but it stood up reasonably well and eventually served its intended purpose just perfectly.
Both my beloved and I are peace-loving people. We've never hit each other, nor do we hit other people (and we certainly don't intend to start) but we both have a lot of anger and pain still left inside of us. Talking helps, but punching toilet paper, as we've discovered, helps even more sometimes.
Maybe I'll do it again and maybe I won't, but I'll always remember the day we ambushed the smiling Cottonelle lady and laid her flat. Twice.