Stay Salty
When I was a teenager, I once got so mad at my younger brother that I launched a salt shaker at his head – fortunately missing, but the container itself still suffered. If you’ve never seen eight billion grains of sand scattered around a kitchen, you would be amazed at how far they can go, and I can assure you that they get into every nook and crevice and are remarkably hard to remove.
I no longer have that temper (which is good, because I’d like to think that I have better aim), but I have transferred some of the energy I previously aimed at freshwater fishing into the salt.
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