So, yesterday, Tuesday, I had a bad day. It wasn't the worst day I've ever had, but it was the worst day I'd had in awhile.
It was the kind of day where nothing goes right and people decide to be grumpy to you for really no reason at all. And once it starts, it just seems to cascade.
I got up early and out of the house earlier than usual and was confronted by a subway rider whose butt was, plainly put, too big to squeeze between me and the person on the other side of him. Then, he had the never to get mad at me. As if he was being forced to sit down rather than, say, maybe decide he couldn't fit.
When I got to work, I spent the day fighting with my computer over multiple issues. I've had problems with this since the beginning. The IT guy shook his head and said "we've had more trouble with your computer than anyone else's ever". Glad that I could be here to take that prize. I missed an important training that I was required to take all because I didn't have the right version of Word.
Then I called my tax guy, who seemed to be avoiding me since I took my taxes in to him a month ago. I asked what had been done on the two years he was supposed to be working on and he weakly said that he'd have the 2017 done soon. Dude, tax day is six days away, I told him. The conversation got heated and I decided that I didn't trust him to take care of this and so I fired him and walked over to his office and picked up the forms from various jobs that I'm supposed to file.
I went to the gym to blow off some steam, but it was incredibly crowded and so I eeked out 15 minutes on the treadmill before giving up any hope of finding a free spot to work out in.
Finally, towards the end of the afternoon, I treated myself to a late lunch (I had forgotten to take lunch from home) of a can of beefaroni, which promptly splattered on a clean shirt I was wearing.
I went home sulking and hoping that I could just get home without further incident.
Throughout all of this, a song from my Lutheran camp counselor days kept running through my head: "On a Day Like This, I Need to Lord to Help (pronounced "HEP" because, we were, after all, in Texas) Me".
That cheered me up abit. And then something happened.
I started to look at it all in a different way.
So I spilled some sauce on my shirt. I have ten others in the closet. I have an abundance of clean, available shirts to wear. I have the money to take the one I spilled on to the cleaners.
I can afford to go to the gym and, despite being 55, I still go regularly and do great workouts and am in fairly good shape (although, perhaps I could work on my beer belly a little harder!)
Having taxes means that I earned money. I have been scrambling for the past couple years for work but I have had work. It may not be a lot but it is something and I'm grateful.
Speaking of which, the most significant word in the sentence "having trouble with a work computer" is "work". After the time I've been through, to have trouble with a 'work' computer feels like a luxury.
and that subway guy? Well, first he must be in some serious pain for him to go off on a stranger as he did and I forgive him. And although I, like many New Yorkers, complain about the mess that is the subway, it existing means I don't have to walk 60 blocks each way to work. I can do it (and have done it) but taking the subway is, of course, faster.
A job, public transit, a shirt; I found some gratitude in the midst of a stressful day.
And when I look at things that way, it doesn't seem to me to have been such a bad day after all.