It’s the little things. The badgers are back in my apartment — or, they may be a family of raccoons, I’m not sure. (I’m also not sure why spell-check says that raccoons isn’t a recognized word. Clearly, the Spell Check Deciders have never lived next to a restaurant.)
Anyway, I’m pretty sure my home didn’t look like this when I left this morning. I’m also pretty sure that neither Russell Jenkins, in all his short-legged, one-eyed glory, nor Saul “I’m-a-16-year-old-poodle-are you kidding me- I’m-too-old-to-know-what’s-going-on-plus-I-don’t-have-any-teeth-so-oy” Abramowitz could have wrought the havoc I walked in on. It must be badgers or raccoons or my spirit animal coming in here and tossing stuff about. I don’t so much need a maid as I do a genie with unlimited wishes.
And, speaking of wishes, let’s talk about fishes. And, back to the original theme of this post, the little things. Let’s just take a look at this for a second:
It would have been easy to flush that fish to glory, probably. Definitely easier than building a harness to let the fish float and socialize, that’s for sure. I imagine that little act has resulted in a thousand times its energy in good karma. That’s why I’ll let Russell Jenkins and Saul Abramowitz pretend that it’s not their fault (and, truthfully, it probably isn’t… I’ve just been so busy!) that we are in a real-life pig sty right now. All we need is a pig … oh, wait, maybe that’s me.
It’s the least I can do for them (because I ain’t no-how, no-way building a harness for either of them should the time come — it’s enough that I pull Saul around in a wagon and carry Russell when he gets tired on a walk. I can just get a bigger wagon.) But, all my little kindnesses and ignoring of their idiosynchrasies are easy for me. They probably mean a lot, though, to them, the hairy little freakshows in my apartment whom I indulge.
And that’s just it. The thing is, it’s pretty easy to go with the flow and move forward and find a way, not make a big deal when you could, or not speak in anger when you really want to. It’s just much easier to relax into the mess and pick it up and apart at your leisure. I had a work experience yesterday with a planner (they’re always so mean!) who told me all about how stupid account people were and why she hated working with them. I could have said, “Oh, yeah? Expletive, expletive, expletive, expletive, expletive, plus you’re an expletive!” And, believe me, you, I surely wanted to. Plus, I keep current with pop culture, so I know swear words and insults she probably doesn’t (See my latest love: Smash, Smash, SUH-MASH! from me on twitter — @jenmcox — she has no idea.)
So, as we get ready for Little Friday Eve, I’m keeping this little goldfish in mind. I’d like to think she’s a girl and her name is Emma. So, Emma is just a little thing, inconsequential, we’d think, easily disposed of or ignored. But someone took maybe an hour out of their lives to give Emma something to make hers better. Totally worth it to do a little thing that, for someone (or some fish) turns out to be the biggest thing ever. See you on Little Friday! (With news of Chicago TextileWorks –we have a new home– and Hatastrophe (which is about to launch on Indiegogo!) Do a little thing, and appreciate when one is done for you, maybe.