Connecting

I'm trying to learn to laugh at myself more and stop taking life so seriously (doomsday music inserted here).

I'm a bit like television's favorite detective, Monk, who must straighten a crooked picture or pull a piece of lint off a stranger's coat sleeve.

I really need to lighten up.

Yesterday morning, a Saturday mind you when I'm sometimes still in my robe past 10, I had to be fully clothed & presentable by 8:00 because a Direct TV dude was showing up on a service call.

Greeting the technician wearing my robe was not even a possibility. I've had my robe for 4+ years. Its ribs of pink chenille lay crushed and stained in spots. It's uglier than sin and has enough girth that it could be used as a main sail on a boat. When wearing my robe, I resemble a large, fluffy serving of wilted cotton candy.

But my robe is not the point of this post....

As I prepared myself to greet the technician, I found myself stopping here & there to tidy up the house. Hanging up a coat. Putting shoes away in their designated spots. Lighting a candle to dispel the aroma of a recently opened can of chicken liver cat food.

How ridiculous! Am I so insecure that the opinion of a random technician matters who I'll likely never meet again and who, more than likely, would not even notice a coat hanging on a chair or a newspaper tossed on the floor?!

So, difficult as it was, and, recognizing that I need to exercise my 'imperfection' muscle, I retraced my steps and put the newspaper back on the floor, put the dirty dishes back onto the counter top (I thought they'd be less obvious if they were placed in the sink) and hung the coat back over the chair.

While the technician worked we had a friendly chat with light laughter thrown in.

I'm relatively positive he didn't notice that my house needs a good vacuuming.
Besides, it's kindness and laughter and connecting that really matter.