those days

It’s funny how when you say, “It’s been one of those days,” people know exactly what that means. It’s funny because everyone has those days, but what those really means is different for everyone. I appologized for being late today to a 16-year-old, and sighed the aforementioned phrase.

“Me too,” she said, eyes wide. “Totally.”

I wonder what constitutes one of those days for a 16-year-old. I wonder what constitutes one of those days for the CEO of Goldman Sachs, or for the homeless dude shifting through our apartment’s recycling bin just minutes ago.

I had one of those days today, but I won’t list the items, because they are ridiculous and silly, but feel defeating and wearying. I’m not usually one to talk (or write) much about music, but last week I got a brand new iPod that is about the size of a postage stamp and, after a mess of incompatible software and unnecessary upgrades and Apple customer service hotlines, I fired him up today. (After a succession of iPod’s named “Megan” or “Megan’s!” or “Mine”—devices which I subsequently lost or broke—I changed it up this time around, and named the little guy Tito).

Anyway, Tito was about the only thing that worked today. And music was about the only thing that got me through my exhaustion and the silliness of a weird day. Music that I forgot I had and forgot I loved. This one in particular forced some sunshine down my throat today around 6 p.m. (and sometimes forcing sunshine down your throat is all you can do to make it through the few hours that remain until you can go home and put on your pajamas and realize that you have it pretty good.)


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