I wanted to paint it black but it was a wondrous orange

Sometimes you wake up on the wrong side of the bed. It sets you on a dark path from which its hard to pull back. That can certainly happen. Me? It doesn’t happen often to me. Not that my life is all songbirds and puppies. I think I just made that phrase up. But I should check Merriam Webster on that as they are the authority figures these days on vocabulary and the like. Who knew a longstanding dictionary company could have so much snark? If you are wondering what I am talking about look up their tweets.  To me, that company is so New York. I feel an affinity with it. I love that they added the word “sheeple” to the dictionary a few weeks back. People are so sheeple these days.
But I have severely, horrifically digressed. Or have I?
Yes. Yes, I have.
Back to waking up with a foul mood. Sometimes, rather, the day fouls up our mood. Sometimes we wake up energized and ready to tackle the infinitesimal problems. Then a foul-mood creature of habit messes up your zen and grove. Is there a name for those people in the dictionary?
Then there are those days you sort of wake up in a bad mood but you actively try to resist. And then the aggravating people around you just tip you over that line.  I’ve got a few choice adjectives to describe that set. That was my context early this week. I fought off as much as I could the dark, evil forces. But the forces were strong and I became angry, sad, and annoyed. All these emotions at once wrapped up in my neat little package of being. The day wanted to be painted black. I kept humming that Rolling Stones’ song that often plays in the background of a movie battle. As many have noted it’s a dark, bleak song.  Even with a 1001 covers of the song its sense of desolation never goes away.

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black. I see my red door, I must have it painted black.”
That was my mood. Then I went for a walk. I chatted for a bit with someone who was feeling similarly frustrated. We laughed. We frowned. We vented. And although a moment of catharsis had occurred, the darkness was still there.
Then, a few hours later as I had my head in my hands, I got a cool soothing surprise. Someone had gone to get a “raspado” shaved iced Mexican style for me. It was such a sweet gesture. I hadn’t asked for it. Hadn’t dreamt of it. But there it appeared. This person brought it thinking I needed to be soothed. I was so touched by the gesture.
It was not only a human-kindness sweet bit, but also yummy and refreshing. Unlike any other shaved ice I had previously eaten. Or does one slurp it? A simple gesture turned everything around. For that I am grateful.
It turned the darkness into a bright orange cone of comfort. And I shared it. And it spread happiness.

20 replies »

  1. This made me smile I love that phrase “Not that my life is all songbirds and puppies” also I think those negative people are called “gremlins” at least that’s what I call them , but I will check in with Merriam Webster 🙂


  2. Nice and an enjoyable read.
    Oh I do love a nice burst of orange to life up my mood! Mango lassi springs to mind. Orange is the new black as they are fond of saying these days.


  3. After commenting about Dodger Blue on an earlier post, I was struck by what I have considered to be a horrible University of Tennessee Orange, which has been growing on me of late, after more than 11 years here in Volunteer-land! I was then, of course, delighted to read that your sympatico colleague had made this very generous gesture to bring some sunshine to your otherwise bleak day. Lucky you!


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