Okay, I swear that every time I set out to write a blog post something thwarts me. This is the third, THIRD, different blog post that’s somehow been deleted. Thanks a lot, interwebs.
So when things don’t go as planned I usually laugh it off (above) and figure it out. I’ve had countless flights and travel plans get derailed and you just make the best of the situation and I find that it all works out. But, when things don’t go well but, when I get upset, which is usually directed at my parents-it’s most often over the dumbest things. And that’s when my parents tell me, “Hey, this won’t matter in a couple of years.” Which only serves to make me more angry/upset. Except they’re always right. A couple of examples:
- When I kindly got a new violin music stand for my birthday (hey, never said I was cool) and my dad stayed up late to put it together and then I got mad because I wanted to put it together myself — that was dumb.
- Or the time senior year of high school when I wanted the fancy, expensive senior pictures and my mom told me that it wouldn’t be important oh, in six month’s time, and I told my mom it would always be important — yeah, I don’t care about them now.
- Or the time senior year of college when the seniors’ parents were supposed to write really kind, funny, thoughtful letters to their daughters to read in front of the whole chapter and my parents just wrote a funny letter and I got upset (in my defense I was a little hungover and I didn’t want to hear anything at that point in the evening) — well, it’s one of my friends’ favorite collegiate anecdotes.
- Or, the time when I was a kid and I had a big green bouncy ball that I loved. I let my brother borrow it whilst out on a playdate and he, a friend, and our dog happened to pop it — well, I was devastated but I had to learn to get over it.
Well, the bouncy ball happened again.
I decided that in an attempt to
have a toy at work be healthy and have good posture a coworker and I ordered stability balls.
The day we got them - yet to be inflated. Aka the “before” picture.
My coworkers were taking bets on how long I’d actually last on the ball. Friday was the first day I had the ball inflated enough that I could sit on it.
Just bouncing and working. Working and bouncing.
My coworker, and fellow Denisonian!, and I decided to finish the job of inflating (it’s hard and tedious!) on Friday afternoon. She’d had a stability ball at a previous job so I was relying on her wisdom for how full my ball should be. We accidentally overfilled them (I was much too high for my desk) but as I was showing it off to another coworker I heard a very distinct hiss. I turned it over and saw the hole. I tried to put my finger on it, which only caused my ball to split down it’s sides.
I had to walk about because I was tearing up and couldn’t breathe. I don’t think I stopped for five straight minutes. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. My coworkers were pissed because none of them had bet on me lasting one day (ha!).
So there it is, my poor dead stability ball.
Maybe the third time will be the charm?