Tomorrow is just another day like every other one that has come before. I will wake up a few too many minutes late and have to rush a bit. I will remember to breath in and out. I will go to work at a job that while not terrible, it’s not exactly fulfilling either. It’s not like I am saving lives and making the world a safer better place. I manage commercial furniture installations. Meh. But, I am good at it and it pays the bills. I will put in my 8+ hours then come back home like any other Tuesday. I will cook dinner that has a 50/50 chance of being delightful or gag-inducing. I will make a weak attempt at cleaning something or other around the house while dinner cooks. I will eat the dinner all the while pondering how there could be so many dirty dishes in the sink already after just one simple meal. I will watch some mundane TV show or overrated movie on one of the hundreds of channels to be found on the idiot box. I will multitask and pin pointless items on Pinterest that look great in writing but, when executed, turn out to be joke worthy big ol’ messes, read a style magazine and curse my lackluster wardrobe or knit a gift that was meant to be for last Christmas in the hopes of actually having the fortitude to finish by this Christmas. Then I will go to bed to start the process all over again and will continue to do so until Friday evening breaks from that monotony.
I need to remind myself this: Tomorrow is just another day. A day just like all the rest of the 12,418 days I have lived up to this day. It just happens to be the day that I took my first gasp of air that started the broken path of a crazy life. It is not a day to contemplate my mortality, reminisce on failures, shortcomings, expiration dates and disappointments. This date on the calendar is not a trigger to ruminate on what I don’t have, where I wanted to be and how life was supposed to be by now in general. There are 365 days in the year and I can spread these feelings of regret and longing out over the other 364 days to soften the proverbial blow. I don’t need to pack all these unsavory thoughts and memories into one depression filled day that was really meant for celebrating life.
So, it’s just another day. It will come and go. I will not feel any different, I refuse. I haven’t felt any different on tomorrow for the last 12 “tomorrows” and this year will be no exception. I hold no expectations of grandeur and pomp, I never have. Doing so would only lead to added disappointment and ruin any surprise, no matter how small, that could possibly peek through the typical daily grind. Tomorrow is just another day, 1 of 365 and I will survive it even if today feels like there is no way that I could possibly.
Happy fucking Birthday to me. Let the wine floweth over whilst I celebrate my survival of another year in the face of so many benign 1st world problems, for without which I would have nothing to complain about. Keepin’ it real since 1980.