A Charming Storyline

The hard parts don’t have to disappear for the story to be beautiful.

I want to tell you a story about how quickly I can become someone I do not know.
Apparently, all it takes is being hot.
This weekend was one of my last free weekends for the foreseeable future.
Because I am very, very popular.
Kidding.
But I was looking forward to a nothing Saturday.
One of my planned rot days.
Nothing on the calendar.
No plans.
No expectations.
Just doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it.
And I was so excited for my last free Saturday for a minute.
Then Friday at 8 p.m., my air conditioning went out.
Okay.
No big deal.
Maintenance will get to it in the morning, I'm sure.
They're usually fast.
I went to sleep relying heavily on my fan and the confidence that this would be tomorrow's minor inconvenience.
Until midnight.
When the power went out.
So there goes my fan.
And my confidence.
The power—and my very necessary fan—came back on around 3 a.m.
By 7:30 Saturday morning, my apartment was starting to get uncomfortable.
I emailed the leasing office, knowing they didn't open until 10.
At 9, Lily and I went for a walk.
At 10, I left to go to Target.
By the time I got home around 11, I hadn't heard from anyone and it was already over 90 degrees outside.
So I walked over to the leasing office to verbally talk to someone.
All in all, my air wasn't even looked at until 4:30 that afternoon.
I was furious.
My whole day was gone.
My beautiful, glorious, completely empty Saturday had turned into me waiting around wondering when someone was going to show up.
My relaxing day became a frustrating day.
And apparently, once I am frustrated enough, everyone else becomes an jerk too.
I had dinner with a friend that evening, and on my way there, every driver on the road was pissing me off.
So naturally, I texted another friend:
"I hate everyone. All these drivers are out to get me."
Which seems statistically unlikely.
Realistically, those drivers were probably driving exactly the way Atlanta drivers always drive.
Some good.
Some bad.
Some apparently operating under their own personal interpretation of traffic laws.
Nothing about them had changed.
I was sitting differently in the world.
I was mad.
Hot.
Annoyed.
Ready to yell at anyone who breathed at me wrong.
I hated everyone.
My attitude...trash.
My words...vomit.
My actions...less than desirable.
Later, I was walking Lily—still mad, obviously—and I started thinking about a conversation I'd recently had with someone.
They told me:
"You casually live the most charming storyline ever."
It was a joke.
Obviously.
But as I walked around my little neighborhood, pissed off at the world because my air conditioner had ruined my Saturday...
I thought:
They're kind of right.
I work at my favorite place on earth.
I live in this little historic downtown area where I can walk every day.
Neighbors and businesses leave bowls of water outside for Lily and all the other neighborhood dogs.
I can walk to three coffee shops.
Three.
My apartment is decorated exactly the way I like it.
There are books everywhere.
I sit outside at night and read while I drink tea.
My best friends work with me.
I get countless hugs from kids every single day.
I have the best friends in the world—including the cutest 97-year-old woman.
Every morning, I walk with my best friend before work, and we laugh and talk before we start our day.
I have this blog that a few people read.
I have a loving family.
The cutest godson.
A volunteer program I love being part of.
Families that aren't technically mine but have adopted me into theirs anyway.
So yeah.
It is a pretty charming storyline.
Except when it isn't.
Because it's also bills.
And broken air conditioners.
And car trouble.
And health concerns.
And fires at work.
And a heart that breaks.
And grief.
And disappointment.
And Saturdays that were supposed to be restful but absolutely were not.
Those things are real too.
I don't want to romanticize my life by pretending they're not.
I don't want to slap a pretty filter over the hard parts and call everything magical.
Sometimes things just suck.
Saturday sucked.
I was hot.
I was pissed.
And I stand by my assessment that at least some of those drivers were idiots and were out to get ME.
But I realized something.
If being miserable can make an ordinary drive feel like everyone on the road is personally conspiring against me...
Maybe paying attention to what's lovely can make an ordinary Tuesday feel a little magical.
Because nothing about the drivers changed.
I did.
The world looked different because of the place I was sitting in when I looked at it.
And maybe romanticizing my life is simply choosing, every once in a while, to sit somewhere else.
Not somewhere that denies the broken air conditioner.
Just somewhere that notices the three coffee shops too.
Because tomorrow morning, I'll probably walk with my best friend.
Lily will stop at every free water bowl on our walk and drink like their water is supreme and the filtered water I give her is subpar.
I'll drink coffee.
A kid will hug me before I'm ready for human contact.

I will have dance parties at work with my favorite little humans who act like I am a rockstar.
I'll come home to my little apartment filled with books.
And later, I'll sit outside with my tea.
There will still be bills.
Something at work will probably catch on fire.
My car will inevitably find another creative way to cost me money.
My heart will hurt again.
Life will continue being life.
But there will also be coffee shops.
And books.
And morning walks.
And dog bowls left outside by strangers.
And children's arms wrapped around me.
And people who have decided I belong in their families.
And maybe that's the whole thing.
The hard parts don't have to disappear for the story to be beautiful.
They just don't get to narrate the whole thing.
Because when I actually stop and look around...
my life is pretty damn charming.