Dogged Pursuit

I do my very best to live life in the pursuit of happiness (but really, jappiness), but sometimes I find myself irritated by minutia and the challenges of synchronicity with other people. I recently read somewhere (my feeble mind cannot recall) that millenials like myself are often troubled by challenges and obstacles, often mere incidental and unplanned occurrences, that they deem unjust (i.e., unplanned) and they somehow feel "wronged by destiny." Wow. Did someone invade my brain and extract that prose? I've suffered from an exaggerated sense of justice since I was a wee thing, and it's only blossomed into perennial annoyance with the way things just ARE. Naturally, this conflict has only nourished anxiety and just when I think I'm at my wits' end with hassle, I am zapped into a more grounded framework by a person, observation, or experience. Working in the pediatric intensive care unit is quite useful handy in providing a daily dose of perspective, and I usually arrive home grateful and less perturbed. Then Madeleine looks at me and bats her eyes as if to say "I told you so, you fool. I soak up every minute of this cherished life like your paper towels soak up my pee in the dining room - may you find the same contentment with the present moment!" For a 15 pound dog, she is uncannily profound.

Mom, you worry too much. Why can't you just take life as it comes?

   I have the day off tomorrow, as I am working this Saturday (boo) and following my sadistic laser hair removal appointment, will be making the pilgrimage to the promised land of Homegoods in search of a sitting chair (as opposed to a non-sitting chair?) for my new room in my new apartment. I hope to G-d one day that future civilizations will discover 600 dollar sitting chairs in an archaeological dig and deduce the reason for their expense, because in my mind a chair should cost no more than however much the person in it weighs. I somehow always exit Homegoods with nothing close to my original intention, for example, I will enter making a beeline for the throw pillows, and exit with tupperware and a waste receptacle. Homegoods is the wily temptress of impetuous shoppers and I a humble victim to impulse buys like a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel reusable water bottle. Alas, let this serve as my written testament that I am ONLY to purchase a chair and perhaps some curtains, and may I be smut by the credit card gods above (i.e., my dad) if I emerge with a life-sized wooden giraffe.

If this cup wrong, I don't want to be right.

Happily Ever After,

Mon and Mads