Every Monday, you can bet that people are going to ask you if you had a good weekend.
What they want to hear are epic tales of pure awesomeness. For the record, I’d like to ban the word “epic” unless it relates to The Iliad or The Odyssey because it has ceased to indicate anything extraordinary. This guy does a better job of explaining that. But I digress.
Usually, my answer to this question is, “Nothing much.”
I’ve tried the upbeat approach and answered, “I think it was good because if it was bad, I could give you chapter and verse, but I got nothin’, so that probably means I had a good weekend.”
I’m not alone in this. Most of us focus on annoyances and wrongs, collecting real and imagined hurts like stamps:
- “Oh look, here’s a 1991-Wasn’t-Invited-To-That-Birthday-Party—not all that rare, sadly.”
- “See? This is a May-2012-Driver-Who-Yelled-Mean-Things-At-Me.”
Or maybe you have your never-ending to-do list doing laps in your head. All this past and future stuff roils into a bubbling, steamy, tormenting brain stew.
I’m trying to work on noticing things right now, which means getting out of my head by ditching distractions like cell phones and playlists when I’m outside running or walking the dog. Some people, my husband for instance, have a natural talent for noticing the good stuff.
“I’m going to walk the dog,” I said Sunday evening, grabbing my earphones because I saw it as an opportunity to sneak in more time with my audiobook, breaking my no-headphones-while-outside rule.
“Oh you’re going to love it,” my husband called out. “We’re having beautiful-sky weather.”
I grabbed the camera instead and jogged down to the park two steps behind my soft-pawed, kindhearted Australian Shepherd, Maggie.
I looked up and enjoyed the show. And I looked down and tossed the tennis ball. I looked up and took some pictures. We had the park to ourselves. I often marvel at how spending time with a (really good) dog brings me into the moment. We were two happy bitches.
I also think dog smiles are beautiful:
Except now, I have a new stamp to add to My Personal Injustice Collection:
“George R.R. Martin! Are you fucking kidding me! You bastard! Episode 9 crushed my soul!”