When a good day goes to crap

The screw through my sandal.

The screw through my sandal.

Man, I had a good day.

Started off with a wonderful interview with the fantastic Kay Hanley.

Followed up by doing my homework (I’m pursuing a masters degree).

Then walked to my kids’ elementary school. Picked them up, 80 degrees, sunny. Just—bliss.

After that, the elementary school had its annual BBQ. So much fun, so much laughter. The DJ took requests, and on behalf of my 6-year old I asked—knowing the guy wouldn’t have it—for Run DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis.” Well, he had it. The boy came sprinting toward me. “Dad! Dad!”


Tonight, was going to go to the neighbor’s house to play poker. Was excited, happy. Before I was to leave, wife asked if I’d walk the dog. “Sure,” I said.

Was walking the dog. Sorta dark out. Walking, walking, walki—FUCK! What the hell did I just step on? Looked down—a rusty screw pierced through the bottom of my sandal and into my foot. No blood, but a nice little hole. Regrettably, I’d never had a tetanus shot.

So, this evening, as my wife put the kids to bed, I was at a medical joint, having a woman inject my arm, then using a scissors and tweezer to pick out the shards of hard rubber and/or rust. It didn’t tickle.

“This day started out so great,” I said to her. “And now I’m here.”

But, now (as in right now) I’m not there. I’m here. In my lovely house. Alongside my lovely house. Typing into the laptop I was able to purchase with the money I made writing books that I love.

In other words, even my good days turned bad are, 95 percent of the time, pretty awesome.

3 thoughts on “When a good day goes to crap”

  1. Amen.

    I remember coming across the paradigm-perspective shifter of “the next time you’re stuck in traffic and fuming, remember how fortunate you are to HAVE a car to be stuck in traffic with.” Really mellowed me out (for the most part). It really *is* about how we view things, no matter how many times I forget it.

    (not to be *that* guy, but I think you meant “alongside my lovely WIFE” [unless your crib *is* that pimp!]. You’re right- I *am* that guy. Insert frowny face).

  2. Jeff,
    Masters Degree – where (and major)? SUNY Purchase? Columbia? I’m guessing not Manhattanville nor Oklahoma State
    Would be interested in reading about your experience as an adult student – going back to school as a student 20 years later.

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