In a previous post, I invited you, dear reader, to tell me about the squirrelly things that happen to you. In exchange, I would offer my tongue-in-cheek advice on how to deal with them. I have come to the conclusion, based on the lack of Dear Digby submissions, that all things squirrelly are funneled by some cosmic force exclusively onto the path upon which I ramble.
Perhaps I need to ramble a different path.
Or notice different things on the path I ramble.
Bun Karayado, in his guest post on my blog, spent a morning observing things that drive him crazy, per my instructions. It’s only fair, I reasoned, that I distribute the craziness. So I roped him into this task, this dear man who won’t leave home without a paper bag over his head. I suggested that he take off the bag and look around. There is much to see in the world that is just plain squirrelly.
This he did.
This he did, when a complete stranger asked him in a sort of I’m-brainwashing-you-into-seeing-the-world-as-the-screwy-place-it-is kind of way.
And he did so hilariously.
This is what I love about Bun’s work. He takes very ordinary things—showering—and finds the hilarity in them, and somehow does it all with good cheer, even though he’s complaining. It’s a true art.
What I learned from his post, and I’m sure it’s the takeaway that everyone had, is that if I look for things to annoy me, that is what I’ll find.
Every day, we’re presented with a banquet of goodies. It’s like sitting down to a long table filled with heaping platters of food: turkey oozing juice and roasted to a golden crisp, piles of creamy mashed potatoes, fresh-baked sourdough rolls still warm from the oven, peas dripping with butter.
Me? All I see is a dead bird, gluten, and dairy, and I’m a gluten-intolerant vegan. Sitting in a three-legged chair.
Now, if I turned my attention to the left, I might notice the wooden bowl overflowing with salad greens that my sister harvested from rich dark soil that very morning. Or the glass bowl of cranberry sauce that my mother made, standing at the stove with her wooden spoon.
So I have decided to counter the suggestion that I gave to Bun, and look for things that bring me joy. This I will do for seven days, and share the results with you in my next post.
No squirrelly-ness.
No nutty takes on the nutty stuff that drives me nutty.
Can I do it? Can I get through a day without some elderly woman disrobing and delousing herself on my park bench as I eat a sandwich? Can I stand in line at the pharmacy without a complete stranger telling me his life story? Can I attend an outdoor concert without some drunken woman clambering over row after row of seats to reach the one seat next to me so she can pass out on my shoulder?
I’m willing to give it a try. I’m willing to test the possibility that it’s my viewpoint, and not some huge practical joke by the universe, that provokes such occurrences in my life.
And you? Will you join me in this expedition to the bright side of the street? What brought you joy today?
