True to all the stereotypes most of us are exposed to via network TV, anyone who works for a living has their fair share of good days and bad days. I think this is why parents preach college and careers to their stoned teenagers. But even the corporate gigs that come after all that can test people’s fortitude. Such has been the case in my life this week.
Of course, when frustration strikes the complaining to significant others begins. And Monday evening was filled with intricate details of everything that unfolded Monday afternoon. It was the kind of conversation no one really wants to have (or hear), but the whole “how was your day” ritual is an obligatory part of being in a committed relationship.
But time passed as time does and eventually Tuesday morning rolled around. We shared a cup of coffee, spoke briefly about what the day had in store and then took a short stroll through the filthy, but charming streets of our San Francisco neighborhood. We both carried a smile as the wild animal on the end of the leash lunged for discarded pizza crust in front of us. The sun was coming up and the air was crisp. It was 6:20 AM.
We wound up outside my lady’s yoga studio. She was a few minutes early. Her kiss goodbye was followed by a little advice. “Do something you enjoy this morning.”
“I already have been,” I thought, as she disappeared through the door.