the little things

my internal focus this morning was on how little things can make or break your day, depending on the importance you ascribe to them.

since i was in my girly, puerile "it's my birthday...who cares but yay!!" mood, events which normally would have set my black moods in motion seemed barely to register.
like, that every pair of my jeans didn't fit right this morning, and i definitely had a 'bad underwear' day (guys: this is when some fairy gnome comes in the middle of the night and replaces your favorite boyshorts with a pair identical in appearance, but which has magical wedgie-causing powers for one day only, just to toy with you). or that there had been a derailment on the D line, so i had to wait for a shuttle to take me to another station to reboard the T. or that the bus driver got lost in newton for 45 minutes. or that the metro crossword clues were published with the wrong grid (there goes a central component of my OCD commuter ritual).

all of that i just shrugged off. i heard some chatty women singing happy birthday to an embarrassed guy. on any other day i would have thought they were downright damaged. today i said, 'hey, happy birthday! it's my birthday too!' they asked me my name and then the entire bus sang happy birthday to me. i pulled my hat down over my face to hide, but underneath i was grinning. any other day i would have been like, dammit now i got bits of fleece in my mouth.

so it's my hope that i can hang on to today's patina of optimism, stretch it out as long as it lasts, and remember that i'm capable of making it appear on more than one day a year.