I dunno, man.
It's like -- Monday you're feeling rested and rejuvenated and you have a brand new action plan and things are calendared and when the guy at Jimmy John's asks you how things are you tell him that today is a good day, because you heard that once on NPR and thought it sounded great. Sure, today is a good day. They're numbered, aren't they, and comparatively this one is a'ok.
And by the middle of the week you've discovered online pictionary and you're kicking some serious internet butt, and things are ok maybe not going exactly how you planned but it's all under control.
And then the next thing you know it's like bam, bam, bam -- and you're a terrible employee and you've forgotten how to talk on the phone and you can't even get the neighbor's dog to pee when it is time to go out. And you turn to online pictionary to boost your confidence but it doesn't work -- you have to pass on "shrimp" -- when anyone can draw a shrimp, right? God. It's like, so simple. And you're thinking, "Today is a good day!! Please?" and wondering why you can't seem to have a normal conversation with your boyfriend before bed.
And meanwhile, the laundry's piling up and the cat box is full and there's a container of burnt popcorn in the trash even though you bought asparagus on Sunday, and ever since you turned 22 you really looove asparagus.
So, I dunno. I've forgotten what shrimps look like. But I feel like tomorrow is going to be a good day.
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The Life of a Day -- Tom Hennen
ReplyDelete(Good Poems Collected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor)
Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it would be surprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are wildly nice, like autumn ones full of red maple trees and hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly awful ones in a winter blizzard that kills the lost traveler and bunches of cattle. For some reason we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don't want to reach our last one for a long time. We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn't one I've been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by perfectly well-adjusted, as some days are, with the right amounts of sunlight and shade, and a light breeze scented with a perfume made from the mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the faint odor of last night's meandering skunk.
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