Bad Days are Relative...and Often Fixable

Today was a much better day than yesterday. It was still wasn’t one of the best days I ever had but if I had those all the time, they wouldn’t be best days, would they?

Granted, I went to work in a somewhat dour mood, still a little under a cloud from yesterday. I also realized halfway through the morning when I went to the bathroom that the cute little outfit I’d assembled was a little different in effect that I’d intended. Normally I, Captain Monkeypants, and a somewhat, um, under-endowed female. This is to say that never would anyone look at me and say “Those aren’t REAL!” They’d have a bit of trouble really find them in the first place. However, thanks to the miracles of female undergarments and the wonderous push up bra, today’s accidental effect was for me to look in the mirror and realize that I had a bit of a, uh, ‘boobs mcGee’ effect going on. My top was cut a little lower than normal and the ‘pushing up’ was a little more extreme than intended.

Needless to say, it made me think, “oops,” and so at lunch, I remedied the problem a little. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being a ‘boobs mcGee’ but, well, it is the office and, well, I’m not exactly someone who goes for that effect very often. If at all. It was almost as bad as the Gold Shirt Wardrobe Mistake of 2010 but it was the type of thing that made me walk around all morning with my arms trying to hide my extreme cleavage effect and made me, well, horribly paranoid that a) people were wondering where the cleavage came from and b) that I was dressed rather inappropriately for work. Chances are, they didn't really care but, well, it's the type of thing you can't stop obsessing about until you remedy it which I did at lunch time. It was a small fix but made things feel better.

So, aside from that slight hiccup, the day wasn’t nearly as bad for me as yesterday. Also, my coworker’s mother passed away unexpectedly and as these tragic events are wont to do, it put my ‘bad day’ in perspective.

That’s the thing with having a bad day, really, isn’t it? Someone’s always got it way worse. The worst feeling is when you have a whine or moan about how irritating your day was because it didn’t go as planned and then you find out the person you’re whining or moaning to has just lost their mother or someone they’re close to has cancer or they just got fired or laid off.

It puts things in perspective.

In my case, it makes me feel instantly guilty and horrible because while I’m complaining about petty little stuff. I hate that feeling because it makes me feel like I’m a lousy human being.

Of course, people are nice and they politely listen and sympathize but even when they say it’s ok to vent because it helps, there’s that voice in my head that says, ‘you’re horrible! How can you whine that your candidate backed out of a job and made you look stupid when [person to whom I am whining] is dealing with [REALLY bad situation]?”

The benefit of this is that over time, I’ve learned to hold back on my venting unless I know it’s safe. If worst comes to worst, I feel sorry for myself for a bit, hug a dachshund and try to put it behind me. I also call my mother because she’s the one person guaranteed to love me even when I’m complaining about silly petty things. Well, I think my dogs love me too but since I’m pretty sure that they don’t understand a word that comes out of my mouth unless it’s one of their favourite words like, “Dinner,” “Walk,” “treat”, “Rory” or “Sookie,” it’s a little different.

The moral of the story is that my day yesterday felt horrible while it was happening. It slowed me down a little at work but, really, it wasn’t anything that I couldn’t fend off with an evening spent mowing the lawn, watching TV and having a nice glass of wine.

It helped that it was the first mow of the season. I hadn’t planned on mowing but the dogs being relatively low to the ground have been having a spot of trouble getting over the rather large, tall clumps of grass as they run around the garden. Sometimes, I’ve lost them and gone out into a panic only to discover they were lying in a tall patch of grass.

So I mowed. My mower was angry. It ran out of oil. I added oil. Mower and I fought. I won. Mower had to mow.

Of course, given the fact that I’m not overly fond of mowing, I wouldn’t say I really “won” per se but, well, the grass is pretty even and the dogs can run freely. Next time I mow, I’m determined to make it more even. It’s hard when there are holes from digging dogs all over the place.

I figure that getting the grass cut was a victory. Also, spending quite a long time yanking the mower’s cord and trying to get the bloody thing to start is definitely a good way to take out some frustration even if a new breed of frustration arises when the mower doesn’t start. It’s worth it the minute the motor catches, finally and begins chugging along.

Also, when I’m mowing, it means I can watch the pups to make sure they’re not trying to find the latest and greatest way to escape. That, I think, is a double win.

In short, with the help of a stubborn mower, a wonderful mother, two cute dogs and a sobering reminder of what a bad day really is, I’m back to normal and grateful that a bad day for me could be solved so easily. Even if I did have an emergency clothes change at lunch.

And it helps that it’s almost the weekend.

Thanks, as always, for reading. Happy Friday!