Remember how I've been so excited to work excessively lately?
Well, yeah - just the time for excrement to hit the fan.
The air conditioning breaks. Or the car battery. Pick your demons.
Sh*t hitting the fan is, of course, a classic opportunity to practice the stimulus versus response principle. As we’ve learned from Viktor Frankl, growth lies between the two: if you can control how you react to any given situation, you’re the king of the world of yourself.
I’m also willing to bet that the sh*t that your fan is flying around is nothing compared to the sh*t Frankl had.
(I also should not be placing any bets right now, having lost an abnormally large one last Saturday. But more of that another day.)
All nonsense aside, I’ve decided to use this opportunity and rise above any whimsical, uncontrolled responses, and instead use the stimulus to demonstrate to the world what an accomplished and wise and highly developed person I am.
Thus I’m sitting in yet another cafe (more of a bar, really), drinking some horrendous liquid I was served after asking for a cup of black coffee, and waiting while our car gets a new battery. I haven’t been home since early yesterday morning. I’ve worn the same clothes for two days in a row now and it’s beginning to feel icky.
*phone rings*
I just now got the call that the car’s fixed and better than ever. But instead of deleting this post, I’ll continue bragging about my ability to handle things gracefully.
RK
