I didn’t write a post last night. Except for Michael, no one knows how much this killed me today. It was final thought as face hit flannel pillows and first thought as last night’s dreams turned dust.
There will always be an excuse. I’m sure it’ll fluctuate between fatigue and / or too much wine, which are kind of one and the same for me, but that said, I’m pretty sure I bored myself with my own post last night. It’s not that I didn’t write a little something-something, it’s that I didn’t write something I felt like sharing online. But that was not my resolution, as Michael so kindly reminded me as I bitterly brushed teeth in Thursday light shine. You said you’d write, he cleared up. Not share what you write. He had a point. I did say that. But how would other people know I was keeping my resolution? Here’s what I wrote late last night, after 4 perfect slices of Lucali pizza, a cocktail, and a freaking long day at work (not in that order).
I didn’t think it’d be easy to write a little something about my day every day for the next 365 days, and that’s why I made it a resolution. One of those small(er) challenges people feel more obliged to set for themselves at the beginning of a year. Start small, they say. Except this doesn’t feel so small to me. I have to make time to write a little something about my day every day for the next 365 days? Why did I agree to that? What is there to say about my day? I never come home and talk about my day. There’s no “How was your day?” except when we’re mocking people who talk about their day. Like the Kramer bit from Seinfeld. You know what I’m talking about. I could run you through the day – how I woke up earlier than usual to make it into my office to check my outlook calendar for the conference room I had to go to for a 9am meeting across the street, or how I worked up the strength to not eat a croissant with my coffee, or how the bathroom in the office was flooded today so everyone had to go pee on different floors. How my one boss, after one of his infamous midday walks, brought mini cannolis into the office to share with select people, and how I couldn’t resist.
That’s as far as I got because I bored myself to tears, except replace the tears with snores, except replace the snores with lovely, light, beautiful breathing which is of course what I sound like when I sleep.
Because I am not someone who talks about or likes to recount the day, it feels awkward to even do so in written form. Rarely are there exciting things to relay about one’s day! But maybe not everything you write has to be exciting. It’s funny. At work, I sometimes have to edit down these “Did You Know?” bonus facts that go into many of our enriched e-books. Because the character count for these facts is somewhere around 65 characters, it can be difficult to really get across how interesting and “cool” these facts actually are. The other day, we had this one fact about Abraham Lincoln that needed some re-working. It was something along the lines of how messy Lincoln’s desk always was and so messy, in fact, that he kept an envelope on his desk that read: “When you can’t find it anywhere else, look into this.” This fact well exceeded the 65-character limit. After the obvious shortening of Abraham Lincoln to just Lincoln, we ended up with something like: “Lincoln was known for being really messy and cluttered” when easily the best part of the original fact had everything to do with the envelope. So we added an exclamation point, which usually solves the problem because it makes the fact sound 10 times more exciting than it is. “Lincoln was known for being really messy and cluttered!” Wow!!! Is that true??? I need to go tell that homeless man over there this incredible news!!!
So, perhaps what I need to do to make my day a day worth recounting to you is to write it emphatically. Add a couple of exclamation points. And be grateful that at least my posts don’t carry a character count.