Right after I make the promise to post more often, I go ahead and get bronchitis. Just my luck, huh?

For the past few days, I’ve spent most of my time in bed feeling utterly useless. Despite my attempts at getting out and about (thanks to a wonderful someone who likes to make sure that I don’t do anything to endanger my well being), I’ve stayed indoors, watching the thunderstorms and sunshine pass. I wished more than ever to be outside yesterday. It was gorgeous.

After my visit to the doctors and a prescription pick up, I settled into my nest of pillows and blankets to begin the process of getting better. While there, I found the time to finish Predictably Irrational (highly recommend this), start The Red Tent, watch a webinar on SEO and think about how much I hate being sick. Although I got a lot done in terms of personal fulfillment – because I never give myself enough time to finish books when I want to – I felt so completely dissatisfied at my ability to perform anything taxing. Take for example, the washing machine incident that happened this afternoon.

I tried being helpful. I tried doing my share. I tried to be a good roommate by contributing to the chores that still had to be done. So I threw in a load of laundry. Shortly thereafter, Brent noticed an electrical smell and that the washer had stopped running. Several buckets, a hose and pounds of clothing wrung out by hand later, we had a very broken washer…and consequently, I very pissed off Mandy. Long story short, we call Sears to make a repair. After I dealt with the incompetence that most people find when calling any sort of service, I thought about how being sick makes everything come into perspective.

Even though I wanted to help out but couldn’t because of the draining sinuses and burning chest, it still didn’t change the fact that the washer was broken and still is for that matter. The world kept turning, the clouds crawled across the sky and that goddamn washer was still broken.

But I’m not upset about it. On any other day, I would have been a lot more worried. I would have probably flipped out, gotten pissy and then discovered that I’ve made an ass of myself. But that didn’t happen today. Instead, I reminded myself that in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. Getting better mattered. Being able to cuddle with Brent again mattered. Not having to blow my nose every 5 minutes mattered.

Which brings me to point: don’t stress about things that don’t matter. Understand that there are just some things that are out of your control. Sad, but true. I know it’s cliche, but things are cliche for a reason. You really can’t sweat the small stuff because no matter how much you piss and moan, the washer is still going to be broken. What you can do however is take your clothes to the laundromat, change your now damp PJ’s and blow your nose knowing that things are going to be okay. They are really going to be okay.

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