Yesterday was a total fail for calm mindfulness. Yes, I did the thing where I crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and cry. I didn’t even make it three days into the week. And it wasn’t because this children’s game is a thing that exists, although, I won’t lie, the fact I live in a culture that produced this game may have contributed to it.
No, it was because I spilled my triple-shot flat white over my Macbook Air. It was sitting in an actual puddle. It bricked.
Apparently I can cope with being jobless and crushed with expensive and irrevocable family responsibilities, but I cannot cope with being jobless, crushed with expensive and irrevocable family responsibilities, and computer-less. I lost it, guys. Much crying ensued. While my Macbook lay propped on an awkward angle in the airing cupboard I spent twenty-four miserable hours moping and catastrophizing. I wasted an entire day.
Guess what? I pulled my Macbook out of the airing cupboard this morning, pushed the power button, and held my breath. It turned on.
There’s a lesson in here for me, and if I was a better human I’d probably learn it. Until then I know my bed will always be there for me when I really, really need it.