5.23.14 Snowballs

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So, I have found that it isn’t big things that ruin a day … it’s little things.  From something as tiny as a paper cut, or missed email, to a typo or finger pinched in a desk drawer, fractional set-backs tend to pile up into monumental wastes of time, turning a sweet day sour.  I think last week I actually yelled at my stapler on the third jam and said, “You’re ruining my life!” (Not exaggerating at all … it totally was.)

 

I love the saying, “It’s just a bad start to a good day,” and I have used it many times, but I’m not going to lie when I say that some days are just better when they’re over.  I had one of those recently.  I was on my way to a book signing, running a little late, (as I always am when I straighten my hair) and realized I’d skipped deodorant.  I knew I’d be too nervous if I didn’t have any, so I stopped at the gas station (of course I was almost out of gas too).  As if that wasn’t enough of a set-back, I soon found out that they only had men’s deodorant … so, at the book signing, I kept my elbows tucked close to my sides so as not to smell too much like a man!  You’d think that would be enough, but crummy days just don’t roll like that.  They aren’t tiny snowflakes, harmless and drifting … no.  Days like this one have what’s commonly known as, the snowball-effect.  

 
Tiny annoyances stick and clump together, as if they’re magnetized.  If I were in charge of the universe, I think I’d work on dolling out gentle sprinkles of unfortunate events – a light dusting we could easily deal with.  But, in the word’s of Annie, “It’s a hard-knock life for us,” and no one leaves certain days unscathed.  You know it’s going to be rough when you’re half-way through your wardrobe, wading in the discarded piles of rejects on your closet floor, only to get to work and have someone say, “You look … different.”  When I asked good or bad, he replied, “just, uh … different.” Great.  Well, embarrassingly enough, “different” could have been code for, “I think something might be inside-out.”  On another day, it might mean, “You may not want to wear striped undergarments with that shade of pants.”  (Note to self to get better closet lighting!)

 
After work doesn’t necessarily mean things get easier.  Just the other day I picked up my daughter from school to see that she was, regardless of the dirty mulch, wearing slippers on the playground.  True, it was slipper day, but did that really mean daddy didn’t bring shoes!?!  It was a soccer night, so got home only to switch slippers for cleats.  There wasn’t enough time to eat dinner, but there was enough time to cry over the choice of snacks and bend back my nail while my pointer finger became a make-shift shoehorn to wedge my son’s too-fast growing foot in his shoe!  The coach was late, so practice ran long, and when we arrived home (near seven)  of course he wants chicken nuggets and she wants noodles.  So, logically, I got them to agree on pizza.  After it was served, my son said, “Um, mom?  Did you mean to cook hair into my pizza?”  Yup!  

 
At this point a text buzzes saying, “Sorry I’m late hun.” As if on cue the dog barks and someone shouts,

“Oops! I spilled.”

Not sure whether to laugh or cry  I desperately looked up, imagining not a flake or a snowball, but a full-blown blizzard. 

It’d be cool if times like these came with a warning – a hazard sign, yellow tape or a helmet … something suggesting what we might be in for.  But you know what … days like that, the hard, horrible, “Are you kidding me?” days, make for the greatest stories.  I mean, it is impressive how awful they can be sometimes, but if you can’t beat it, at least brag about it!  All in all, as amazingly talented as I am for producing days like these, I have to agree with Cavett Robert who said, “If you don’t think every day is a good day, just try missing one.”

 
So I think I’ll stick it out, snowballs … come what may.

Literarily yours,
Elle

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