A Shitty Day

This is Maverick. This morning, Maverick pooped in the house
three times, forcing me to come to a very important conclusion about my life. Thank you Maverick.  

It's Monday morning and I wanted to carry my birthday-weekend-high well into this coming week. I wanted to sleep in. But my son texted me. "Can you like get up and go get me some candy for my Physics presentation?" "When is it?" "Can you basically like go right now? My class is at 9:30am."

Oh, don't get me wrong. It's not as if Peter and I partied the weekend away. Hardly. As a matter of fact, we were back at our hotel room before 10pm. We were watching TV when the couple in the next room returned. I know this because I heard every word they uttered, groaned, and well, you get the picture. Their headboard must have been right next to ours. Over the course of the evening, I heard the people upstairs take a shower and the people downstairs repeatedly flush the toilet, all the whiles knowing full well, they could hear us as well.
     It was a cheap hotel. The only one Peter could find on Priceline, his portal of choice when booking a hotel room. Since it was the only one listed in the small town we were going to go, he didn't bother reading the reviews. He should have. It was awful.

Did it spoil my weekend? Nope.

For my birthday on Friday, Peter bought me a couple of sweaters. They were nice. Over the weekend, I proceeded to buy other things I wanted as birthday gifts to myself. They were nicer.
     Was I upset that one of the sweaters he bought looks like the eight I already own or that it didn't fit? No.
     He got mad props for taking me to a weekend destination that I'd longed for but never vocalized. Somehow he knew and that's the best gift of all.

So, still flush with love and happiness, instead of sleeping in as planned, I happily awoke, got dressed, and went to head out to the nearest store to buy my son crucial elements for his impending presentation - candy.
     But no, not so fast.
     First, I had to clean up the three piles of poop my son's dog had left all over the house. I dumped his dumps into the toilet only to clog the drain. I unclogged it, mopped up the spillage, washed my hands, then washed them again and off I went.

     After briefly searching for the least labor-rights violating, most environmentally friendly brands of store-bought candy, I debated whether or not I had time to get some coffee too. His class wasn't for an hour. I decided I did.
     But then, coffee in hand, as I turn the ignition, nothing happens. No lights, no radio, no power. OH no!
     I repeatedly push the gear shift into place. I turn the steering wheel. I flip the ignition. Nothing. Nothing. Nah...Then mysteriously, it clicks and I am saved from having to call my husband in Brooklyn to ask what I should do. I am free to accomplish this task that seemed so simple but this morning is nearly unsurmountable. And much to my surprise, I'm still in a damn good mood.

I drop off the candy, come home, post on FB about this ridiculous day (It's only 9:00am, mind you!), when after responding to a comment, I realize, yes. That's it!
     "Shit happens." I wrote Dolly. Yes, it does.
    Sometimes, there are no explanations. There are no good reasons, that we are aware of. Most times, things happen and we can either accept them, be haunted by them, be controlled by them or we can shrug our shoulders and decide not to take on that burden and go about our day.
     The world will keep turning. Your life will most likely keep going. And you will survive.
     How you choose to feel about it, that's totally up to you. I know, I know, it sounds simple (Psst! At 52, I now know, it is! It really is!) and not everyone reaches this conclusion at the same time. But trust me. Take a look at a situation (good and bad) and practice seeing both ways. Conceiveably, every situation has a good and bad side. You keep doing that and keep recognizing the positive, slowly you start to not only believe that the world is on your side, you actually stop feeling the negative.

Shit happens. It certainly does. But, you know what? You can pick that shit up, throw that shit out, decide not to give a shit and move on..That's what I choose to do. Get rid of the shit and move on.