If you’re reading this, you survived the week. Good job, I’m proud of you. If you’re reading this in the morning, I hope your coffee is the *perfect* temperature for sipping. If it’s the evening, I hope your glass of white wine is so chilled that your glass is starting to sweat. And if you’re reading this at that awkward time in the afternoon where you’re not sure if you should go get a coffee or just start drinking wine, honey, I think you already know the answer. Go with Rosé, be basic. We love it.
I’m keeping today’s story short. Very short. A “shawty”, if you will. Full disclosure, I went looking for the rapper who coined the term “shawty” and stumbled upon this random ass article written by a high schooler for the Burlington County Times! While the source of such an article was a bit startling, I love the dedication to research and I feel more connected to the youth than ever before, which is important to me. Enjoy! (After you read this post, of course!)
Back to the story. You know, the one that was supposed to be short, and then I got distracted by the word…”short”? Yeesh. I pulled this story from my Twitter account. My Twitter account, right or wrong, is my online diary. I use it too often and share too much, but it’s therapeutic, so please, stop your judging. And because I use Twitter too often, I thought it would be fun to share some of those thoughts here, much like I do on my Instagram account. Why not share the madness a little bit further into the internet? My kids will be so proud when they find this in 20 years.
Maybe it’s because I’m entering the 3rd week of my cycle and I tend to get annoyingly philosophical during that time, or maybe it’s because I’m getting older and maturity has snuck up on me and taken up residence in the part of my brain that was saving useless knowledge, like the lyrics to all of the songs on the Savage Garden CD or the combination to my locker in 8th grade. Regardless of the reason, I’ve been thinking about the things that really matter lately. The things we can touch and feel and hug. The people and the places and the experiences that matter. The other stuff? It’s just that. Distracting, shiny…STUFF.
The other day while out for a jog. Okay, walk. I was walking. I came to a realization…
(Story pulled from my Twitter account (@koshiz):
There’s an older man that lives on my walking route and I always see him outside with his pup. I have always just assumed he was living alone because he’s the only one I ever see. Now, I don’t know about you, but that makes me sad. I hold a special place in my heart for older people. They’ve done some stuff and they’ve seen some stuff and they deserve only happiness! Anyway, the other evening while I was out for my walk, I noticed the older man was setting stuff out for a garage sale. My heart sank. I used the information I was given and I decided he was finally selling all of his wife’s stuff and making room for all of his collections of war stuff and bowling trophies, as men of any age do when their wives pass away.
I thought about him all night. I felt so bad for him, I mean, he was certainly lonely living in that house with his Goldendoodle that barks too much, right? So, the next day, I braced myself as I was getting ready to turn the corner to his house. My heart couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him sit there in an old lawn chair selling all of his wife’s Avon perfumes and floral blouses. So, you can imagine how shocked I was when I saw his FULLY ALIVE wife sitting next to him! Sitting there in a God damn floral blouse! I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy. Literally so happy I actually cried.
I had become so invested in this man’s story (which I completely made up based on little fact and shows I’ve seen on NBC, cough THIS IS US, cough) that I cried. For all I know, those two people were newlyweds selling all of her loser ex-husband’s shit to help pay for a honeymoon to Hawaii!
Anyway. The moral of the story is: don’t assume, it can cause you grief you don’t need in your life. And grief, especially unnecessary grief, isn’t any fun at all.
The other moral, and this may be even more important than the first: It’s totally fine to stay inside in the air conditioning and let your husband do all of the outside chores. In fact, you might just make someone’s day when you decide to waddle your old ass outside again.
So, that’s the post. Pretty short, right? No? Sorry. Twitter makes us keep it short. It’s like they don’t even CARE that we are long winded and get caught up in the details. Pretty rude, yet effective. I’m an assumer, so I’m going to take my own advice. If for no other reason, I think in the long run, it’ll help with the wrinkles, and at this point, I’ll try anything.
I hope you have a great weekend. If you catch yourself assuming, knock it off. You’re too cool for that shit.