I couldn't possibly write yet another article about Joe's Mattress Shack. I couldn't possibly start our taxes. I couldn't possibly go to the gym. I couldn't possibly get out of bed.
I may be a teensy bit burned out.
And there's this DOG, right? Lil' Frank is so robust and healthy now, and he has boundless energy. He never says, "I couldn't possibly bark at that squirrel" or "I couldn't possibly lose my mind over my food," or "I couldn't possibly chase that raquetball for 7 hours."
Yes. Seven hours.
No. He just does it. His joie de vivre is mega annoying right now. It's like he's happy to be alive just to spite me.
Yesterday, I waited 45 minutes at the bank. I walked in feeling like a very important spy, because only very glamorous, spy-like people have actual safe-deposit boxes, and wasn't that exciting? But after 45 minutes of waiting and politely listening to an octogenarian dressed head-to-toe in purple talk about how the government is trying to program us all via mandatory vaccinations and how this nice young man named Rush has a radio show and perhaps I should check it out?
Well. I was no longer a glamorous spy. I couldn't possibly hold it together any longer.
But I did. And then the poor, frazzled bank lady said it was my turn, and she apologized about 17 times. Then, she paused and said, "I seriously love your outfit. You look so adorable."
And suddenly I was a glamorous spy-like person again - even if I didn't find what I wanted in the safe-deposit box.
I need to pay better attention. To the contents of the safe-deposit box, sure. But also to the other stuff.
Joe's Mattress Shack loves me and values my work, and that's why they want me to write yet another article about pillow-top comfort. I need to start our taxes because we are blessed with good jobs and so taxes are a thing. I need to go to the gym because my body works and isn't it amazing?
I need to look at Lil' Frank for what he is: a spiritual leader. A spiritual leader who occasionally pees on the floor. But a spiritual leader, nonetheless.
|I'm wearing a parka. Clearly, I'm good at life.|