When To Call It, What To Call It

Here's one way to tell it: 

• Woke up and my foot is still a problem. The blister has left a crater in my heel. Were I a grosser, more sadistic person, I’d post a photo. Shoes hurt.
• Running behind, can’t stop for breakfast. And by breakfast, I mean my RDA of the Pepsi Colas and the Dr. Peppers. 
• Get to parking garage, lock keys in car.
• Locked out of computer at work. (Noticing a theme here?) Spend 10-20 minutes on hold with IT trying to get back on.
• Get pulled into surprise conference call at work. Literally have a phone to each ear as I try to coordinate getting locksmith.
• Locksmith arrives 30 minutes early. Good thing I finally answered my phone.
•  Locksmith can’t get into parking garage. Clock out from work and walk down to garage. . .
•  . . . Where I proceed to give the locksmith the wrong street entrance. Twice. Good times.
• Somewhere in all of this, traditional period cramps return with a surprising amount of vigor.

  

It’s fair to say that somewhere in all of this I got extremely flustered. But there’s an important point here of which I try to remind anyone who thinks my life is too awful:

In this world, there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. The story is all in how you tell it. Because: 

• I’m wearing my most comfortable pants and a fairly pretty new shirt today.
• My hair is not perfect, but it looks a bajillion times better than it did Monday. Also the zit on my nose mysteriously disappeared overnight.
• On a hunch and motivated by financial desperation, I called Ye Olde Credit Carde Company. I get AAA-like benefits and can get my car unlocked for free.
• I packed my dorky and inappropriate but very comfortable sandals. I wear them to run down to the garage.
• The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day.
• Even though I totally bollocks the directions, the locksmith is super friendly and nice when I finally do meet up with him.
• I use my clock out time to grab some beverages and jerky. To go.

"I'll take a glazed doughnut. And a bottle of anything. . . to go!"

Upon returning to the office, I decided to invoke a McConaugheDay, modified, of course.

For those of you new to the concept, a McConaugheDay is when, no matter what, everything is just “alright, alright, alright.”

It’s related to No Fucks Given. I’ve only invoked them in the past on a day off. Usually bowling is involved.

But here’s the thing about life: it tends to get easier the more slack you cut other people. There may not even be such a thing as true altruism, from my perspective, since most things are done to indirectly benefit the self, in some way. Rather than focus on the depressingly selfish side of that, I like to think of it as a really great incentive to make the world a better place.

So I’m calling it a McConaugheDay. It’s gonna be a test of my Zen and ability to Give As Few Fucks As Possible. But I think it’s worth a shot.

And no sooner was I looking up that lovely David Lee Roth image above than the Senior Partner comes over to educate me about how the expense report I submitted was wrong* and how I should stop my boss from doing such thing**.

And you know what? I ain’t even mad. Not upset, not victimized. not guilty, not picked on.

Perhaps the McConaugheDay is more powerful than I credited. We shall see.

*he don’t know the half of it. srsly.

** as if! ha!