Not Today

Not today, folks. Not today the charming reflection on how autumn leaves fall in a way that looks like how music feels. Not today the joy in small connections. No! No, those clouds do not look lovely. The cat lying in the small patch of sun like a satisfied lover entwined with another on the banks of a French river is not lovely. It is an absolute rotter. It is. I can tell. And the old lady in the beautifully matching outfit holding the small child’s hand at the lights is not wise and loving and bursting with pride. She’s a rotter. And also shut up, birds and boo, babies.

Public Service Announcement: some days are just irredeemably terrible.

I wake up each day presuming the best about its intentions, I really do.

I wake up pleased and hopeful each new day and maybe this is where I go wrong. Perhaps you grumpy morning people have had it right all along, hmmm? Fierce glare at the rest of us. Expecting the worst. Unsurprised when something comes at you sideways and knocks you over completely? Yes well, hoorah for you. Well done.

Me? I think the least we can do for each other in a day of any kind is to work together on the unspoken group project of making it the best version of whatever it might be. Do you know what that means? Hm? You scowling grumpnozzle? It means I’m putting in effort and you’re not and we’re getting the same result. Which is? That’s right. Deeply unfair and wrong and personally offensive.

And yes, sure, I chose to put in the effort and you were smart enough not to even try, but this is meaningless when, after carrying the group project of the day, I have absolutely no effort left to expend.

What I’m saying is: those of us who tend to see the positives, who happily open doors in the morning for the scowlers and hope for the best, we’re the ones you shouldn’t underestimate when it comes to the unwinding.

What is the unwinding?

Well.

You know all that scowling you do? Imagine all those unspent scowls stored away somewhere, in a tight ball maybe, wound tight like the inside of a golf ball. We store those scowls away you see, for emergencies. I almost never use my unspent scowls, for why I should I, when life is such a gift and love is around the corner for all of us and maybe we’ll come into some money soon and goodness isn’t it a lovely view from up here in this dentist chair?

But hear me, hear me. When the day falls apart completely, or people test us too hard, or unfair things happen to people we love and we actually just would love the universe to give us a break for the love of all that is whoops! All of a sudden the day has turned into nothing short of an unmitigated disaster.

That’s when we call on our reserves. All the unspent scowls. The sideways looks, undelivered. The deep breaths that were almost swear words. They animate, you see, when we call upon them, for they knew we only do so when we need their help.

I would warn you to stand back. I would warn you to suit up in PPE. I would tell you to move out and flee the country. But none of this will save you, for you shall feel our wrath.

Public Service Announcement: we all know we should look after those among us who are weak, or scowling, or sad. That we should lift up the downtrodden and reach out to the distant and stern. Of course we should!

But look after your strong too, won’t you. Look after the defenders and the door openers and the hand-raisers and the small-talkers, lest they become the taken-for-granted.

And to those Perky Pennys amongst us: you’re actually allowed to spend your scowls occasionally instead of saving them up for the unravelling. Some days are just terrible. Even the occasional half hour stinks.

Today will, despite its arrogant stranglehold over my own personal unravelling at this very moment, inevitably become tomorrow. And maybe I’ll try on a scowl first thing, to see if it takes the edge off any pending disappointment. To the rest of you? Be grumpy if you need to. And maybe, even when it doesn’t seem necessary, be kind to the ebullient.