I cannot believe this, I say grimly to myself as I realize that my husband – once again – has left the toilet roll empty, its cardboard cylinder trailing a single, wispy flutter of toilet paper.

There’s not enough paper left to wipe a gnat’s ass.  And of course I don’t notice this until I (ahem) can’t get up to remedy the situation.  And my shouts, asking him to get me another roll, brings – you guessed it – no response…

… because he’s already left for work.

On my way in to work, a soccer mom in a minivan cuts me off, then slows down to make a last-minute turn… without using a turn signal.  Rude cow.

I arrive at the office and rush towards the elevator, only to watch in disbelief as the doors slide shut in my face.  I glimpse a man with a briefcase standing inside.  He smirks. Smirks!  This man plainly saw me but chose to ignore me.  I grit my teeth and hope his meeting outlasts the Siege of Leningrad.

No more Ms Nice Guy, I vow grimly.  I’m done playing fair. No one else does.

Sometimes, it’s really hard to let stuff like this roll off my shoulders, yet that’s exactly what the experts say we should do.  Gretchen Rubin, in her popular blog, “The Happiness Project,” advocates finding happiness in the small, everyday things. Her book of the same name has even inspired “Happiness Project” groups across America.

And if you’re happy, chances are you’ll be nicer, right?

According to recent articles in Scientific American and Red magazine, nice guys really do finish first.  In addition to being liked by others, pleasant people enjoy better relationships with coworkers.  They get and keep jobs more often than their grumpier peers, and earn more promotions.   They probably have better sex, too.

(I just made that up.  No idea.)

But sometimes, it’s nearly impossible to be nice.  For instance, the urge to lower my car window and criticize the minivan driver’s road skills in colorful four-letter detail is far stronger than the urge to shrug and let it go.  (Mother Teresa, I’m not.)  And don’t even ask what punishment I have in mind for my husband’s Toilet Roll Fail.  Let’s just say it involves corncobs.  Lots of them.

As for the smirking man with the briefcase – I’d love to follow him up to his floor, where I’ll wait until his meeting ends and he’s headed back toward the elevator.

I’ll smile at him and press “hold” to keep the doors open as he hurries forward, briefcase swinging from his hand, exhausted from a long, grueling (and hopefully lunch-less) meeting.  “Thanks,” he murmurs gratefully as he catches my eye.

“You’re welcome!” I reply.  Then, just as he gets nearer, I press the “close” button and watch as his expression changes from gratitude to disbelief to outrage.

Just before the doors slide shut in his face, I smile and add, “Oh, and by the way – have a nice day!”

Of course, I’d never really do that.  After all, it wouldn’t be very nice, would it?