I’m not used to this version of me. All looking-on-the-bright-side and stuff. Usually I’m a dwell-er. I ruminate. But not lately. NYC Me prefers to be up.
Today challenged this outlook, I tell you.
A work project that usually runs smoothly, didn’t.
Dad had wrist surgery that neither he nor my mother remembered to tell me about. He had a screw loose – literally. In his wrist.
From when he fell eight feet out of a tree a few years ago, but that’s another story. Now that he’s 75, Mom and I do our best to keep him out of trees, but it’s challenging.
I wore heels to work because of a meeting. This is a bad idea in NYC. Walk, walk, walk.
The humidity hit 70% with temperatures in the 60s. In November. I arrived at my meeting sort of sweaty.
My landlord called to give me the bad news that someone in the building has bed bugs. “Three bed bugs,” he said optimistically, “Can we have the bed bug sniffing dog check your apartment?”
“All clear,” he said later.
Other things went wrong. Detailing them in writing won’t make them disappear. But I feel better.
And when all else fails, I remind myself of Sia. This too shall pass.