Did you ever have one of those days? Sometimes they’re weeks, possibly months. And let’s be honest…the world just had one of those days for over a year with this ongoing pandemic. But back to the more manageable kind, which doesn’t seem manageable when you’re in the thick of one. I’m referring to those days when the universe seems intent on thwarting your every waking moment. Your fingers become butter--you can’t pick up or put down anything without dropping it. You bruise more easily—and more often—and your clothes are suddenly too big or too small—it seems like elves snuck into your closet and sewed all the armholes smaller on your shirts.
You’re out of coffee, or you have coffee but the cream has curdled. You decide to go out for coffee, but the car is out of gas. You missed the tax bill deadline by one day and now owe a delinquency fee. Your essay didn’t get accepted for anthology and you didn’t get chosen for that teaching gig either. Or you break a tooth. Twice.
Trying to manage anything normal like a job or breathing is laughable on one of those days because the universe has other plans for you. What plans you ask? It’s not yours to know. I know I often try to divine some sort of message out of such sadistic occurrences, but I don’t ever get any kind of response. Ever. I bumble my way through such days thinking if I had some sort of bubble suit or Teflon attire, I might escape at least the injuries, but of course those outfits don’t exist. I take my licks and figure if I make it till bedtime, tomorrow will be better. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t.
Usually, for me on one of those days, after several hours of grunting and cursing and stomping until that final diabolic incident occurs that threatens to send me spiraling into shrieking declarations over the unfairness of it all, it instead has the effect of stopping me in my tracks. It is at that moment, when all the ridiculousness of the situations snaps me into some sort of fugue state and I think to myself, “just stop.” And, often, I do. (Unless I try to keep pushing through the day thinking I can beat it. I can’t.) The last time this happened to me, in addition to the regular dropsies and banged shins, I also had uncontrollable sneezing. I was trying to get out of the house, see some friends at a festival, treat myself to a day off. But the universe said, “Nope.” By the time I got home that day I was exhausted from sneezing and dehydrated from not being able to drink my fancy coffee drink since the paper straw had crumpled in on itself. This time I knew what to do: I stopped. I plunked my body in a recliner, pulled a blanket over it and stayed put for the rest of the night. Oh, I got up for snacks and wine, but very carefully.
Maybe because those days happen over and over again is why I am getting better at catching myself sooner. There were times when I was younger that I moaned over my cursed life and how if it wasn’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all. Since I didn’t make up that phrase, it must mean that I wasn’t the only one this has happened to. And, in fact, a friend once told me about taking out her lipstick to quickly apply it during a meeting and it flung off the tube and into the lap of a colleague. Why? Isn’t lipstick applied surreptitiously during a meeting an action one can perfect? Of course, it is, but that’s the nature of this phenomenon. It’s absurd. It’s relentless. And it happens all the time.
So the message of course is that there is no message except to stop what you’re doing and take a minute. Maybe something’s going on that needs some attention. Maybe it’s some huge thing that you need a break from or maybe it’s nothing and it’s a reminder to slow down a bit. Maybe it’s just a good time to take stock of your place on the planet. Take a minute. Breathe. Look up into the sky. Smile.
And hopefully a bird won’t shit on your head.
This made me think about the mindfulness trend which, by the way, I very much buy into. Sometimes when you are present, “in the moment,” and not dissecting the past or fretting about the future, you face down the Deep Absurdity.