Praise and thanks, I've had more "best days ever" than I can count. (The fact that I am not a numbers person has no weight on how blessed I've been!)
But every now and then you hit a day that strikes discord. Like a long-anticipated reunion with old-and-dear friends--a reunion that is robbed of all charm, because you can't indulge in a nice stretching talk--you've lost your voice and a squawk is all that can be mustered, despite your clearings, harrumphs and tears. (This is a true story.)
Another painful scenario: tumbling that above-lovely slab of watermelon--the one you beg for on an August afternoon--into a scrape of sand and dust--then being forced to abandon the lost hope to ants.
Another painful scenario: tumbling that above-lovely slab of watermelon--the one you beg for on an August afternoon--into a scrape of sand and dust--then being forced to abandon the lost hope to ants.
But what I've noticed is that even those really hard-shot-with-misfortune sort of days aren't as biting as I'd would like to think. Note passing is a perfectly acceptable form of communication outside of a classroom, and strawberry ice cream is really quite a nice solace. Some people say that "solving" a bad day requires only a pinch of creativity. [I do not hold to this dogmatically, by the way!]
Now, here's an experiment. How do you solve the following story?
You wake up in the thick of night (actually, at six o' clock in the morning) and rip towards the kitchen. It's nippy out--a perfect day to prepare a perfect preparation of precious hot cocoa (went as far as I could with the alliteration). Then, to break your fast, you reach out and pull an innocent banana.
But as your hand touches the herb, you realize that it is not so benign as first looks would make out. In fact it is quite sinister in a lime green sort of way. A behemoth of a tomato horn worm--one that dwarfs your thumb--is leering at you from its perch--your would-be-piece-of-fruit.
As the information unfolds (after your bloodied scream rouses the household), the Goliath is an escapee--your sister's pet. But it is highly unlikely that you or the worm can ever return to pleasantries like bananas and hot chocolate anymore.
My question to you, dear friends, is how would you solve such a day?
I'm still trying to find out myself.
Anxiously yours,
Kaitlin
Now, here's an experiment. How do you solve the following story?
You wake up in the thick of night (actually, at six o' clock in the morning) and rip towards the kitchen. It's nippy out--a perfect day to prepare a perfect preparation of precious hot cocoa (went as far as I could with the alliteration). Then, to break your fast, you reach out and pull an innocent banana.
But as your hand touches the herb, you realize that it is not so benign as first looks would make out. In fact it is quite sinister in a lime green sort of way. A behemoth of a tomato horn worm--one that dwarfs your thumb--is leering at you from its perch--your would-be-piece-of-fruit.
As the information unfolds (after your bloodied scream rouses the household), the Goliath is an escapee--your sister's pet. But it is highly unlikely that you or the worm can ever return to pleasantries like bananas and hot chocolate anymore.
My question to you, dear friends, is how would you solve such a day?
I'm still trying to find out myself.
Anxiously yours,
Kaitlin
I would probably go back to bed and try again in a couple of hours.
ReplyDeleteGood thought! I may have to try that...after I help that cocoa off the scene...
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