Unfortunately, as it so often happens, Thursday was unlike Wednesday. Ups and downs, rights and lefts, norths and souths. We live in a world of opposites. My work day was frustrating, and I was mad…mad that I needed to take a second job today. This was not how it was supposed to be.
My patio furniture came six hours late, so I sat and sat and waited and waited. Then it came! Yippee!…unassembled. Six metal chairs, two of them rocking chairs, and a giant glass table. In taped boxes and cocooned in bubble wrap. I’m not positive, but I think the manual was telling me in Gaelic how to hotwire a car. The first chair took an hour to assemble. My sense of humor took 30 seconds to disassemble.
I get frustrated very easily, and expect way too much of myself. If I don’t understand something, I get livid. How can I not know how to ace my serve? – I mean, I’ve played tennis 9 times! How do I not know how to speak French when my last class was only 14 years ago? Kayaking, I should be awesome at that!- No, I’ve never done it before, but what does that matter? I should be the best!
Sigh. So now imagine me two hours later, surrounded by a city of bubble wrap, my toe broken (the glass table is no friend of mine), my hands cut and bleeding from those silly allen wrenches. You all were so lucky you were not here. Every once in a while, the breath just sucked itself right out of me in a wave of emotion and frustration. I’m not supposed to be doing this by myself! I’m not supposed to need patio furniture! I’m not supposed to be sad that it’s Memorial Day weekend soon – dreading the beginning of what was supposed to be another brilliant summer. But I swallowed the sob every time – I was not going to cry over spilled patio furniture. Or waste another moment living in the “supposed to be” world. Plus you can hardly use a wrench when you have tears in your eyes. I don’t think that they ever mentioned that on “This Old House” so that’s a freebie.
But now I sit, with a Brooklyn Summer Ale, at the head of my table. Breathing in everything around me. Understanding the importance of being right here, in this rocking chair, right now on this Thursday night, right in this very moment. And knowing I’m not “supposed to be” anywhere else.
One Patio Set: $350.
Shipping and Handling: $150
Having a beer, writing outside in my rocking chair, and listening to the city: Priceless.