Some days are good

Some days are good, some days are bad. And some, plain humdrum. On Sunday, we spent the whole day holed up at home, and I complained to the hubby how… quiet it was. Normally, I would prefer days at home muted and unperturbed. But yesterday was… just different. Traffic down below was hushed, and it felt like the whole world went away for a nap someplace. The hubby and I were catching up with some work while tuning alternately to 90s, 80s (and 70s!) music channels. But still the lull, was oddly dismal.

When I was a little girl, I could never comprehend why grown ups prefer to just sit down and talk, or just sit quietly for long periods of time. That was the time of inexhaustible energy – always running, stomping, cutting things, chomping away pretzels and stick bread. No time for talk, only for screaming. Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t turned my back to conviviality. It’s just that as I grew older, I look at peace and quiet as a reward, and not as a punitive measure.

First thing Monday morning, I managed to irk (unintentionally) an officemate. Two officemates, actually. They were in my face by 8:30 a.m. I could have griped and fussed, too. But then again, those two people were the two most unlikable people at work. They were perfectionist, nitpicking and tart. They want everything to be perfect. And God forbid, should a minuscule detail be off, a hissy fit is sure to happen. I wasn’t interested anymore to grumble. It was obvious I do not belong in their perfect world. And I am not even welcome there! Oh, well. If the “perfect” world is populated by people like them, I’d rather splash around in my imperfect world. Some days… are just full of drama.

Some days which start bad, turn out good. That, would be a perfect day. After a lousy Monday, I got a very good news. So I survived. I love quiet days. And I love days full of surprises, too.