Puff Piece
100 things I’m happy about today.
I wake up early (1) and the sun (2) is streaming bright through the white curtains (3) I recently hung in the bedroom of our new apartment (4) in Paris (5). “A new day!” (6) I jump out of bed, bleary-eyed (7) because I can’t be bothered to put my titanium-framed, unarticulated, super-simple glasses (8) on this early. The room around me is nearly empty, like a minimalist dream (9), because our move hasn’t come in yet. I curl my toes (10) on the sheepskin rug (11), while staring at blank white walls (12), and enjoy a good stretch (13).
I bellow a sweet but loud “Good morning sunshine!” (14) through my daughter’s (15) closed door. She replies in her mellifluous soprano voice (16), which always makes my heart skip a beat (17). I walk in to the room she cleaned up (18) yesterday, and asked if she slept well. She did, because she went to bed early (19). It will be a good day.
Later we watch some stand-up comedy (20) on YouTube while eating breakfast together (21). We make plans to roam around Paris (22) for Fête de la Musique (23) later today, after I’ll pick her up (24) from her school trip. I send her off to school with a hug (25), after fussing and worrying (26) whether she has everything she needs, like a good hen mother (27). I wish her a spadoinkle day (28), and off she goes to school, gracious and majestic as a greek goddess, full of youthful magic and energy (29).
My kitchen is a disaster work zone, as we’re still working on it (30). But yesterday we put up (31) a nice stainless steel range hood, and we’re now almost done (32). This apartment will soon be ready to welcome my bright and cheerful son (33), and my gorgeous (34) wife (35), the love of my life (36). Only one more week and we’ll all be together again (37)!
I sit down to write this piece (38) so I can hit the deadline (39), and submit it to my coach, mentor and dear friend Damien (40) by 9am… We had a virtual beer (41) last night over Skype, talking about our life goals (42), about user experience (43), lean innovation (44), experimentation (45), and our consulting careers, which for both of us are just a disguise for liberating people (46) from their own mental shackles, and helping them become what they truly want to be. Damien agreed to help me get back in the writing game (47). My first assignment (48) is to write everyday, which is daunting yet exhilarating (49).
I’ve just started writing this when suddenly there’s a ring at the door! Who’s my mystery visitor (50)? It’s my darling sister (51)! She just dropped off her son (52) at school next door, her daughter (53) is with the nanny, and she’s wanting to use my apartment as a coworking space (54) for her “work-from-home” friday. What a delight! We plug in the coffee (55) machine and share a pain au chocolat (56) that she brought. I get to hear about her troubles, and offer (57) a compassionate ear (58).
This afternoon I’ll visit my mom (59) in her apartment, the big one where I grew up (60) on Avenue de Breteuil (61), and which is now filled with her sculptures (62). I’ll bring the new toner cartridges that Amazon delivered (63) to me, and I’ll install them in her printer. All this computer-fixing (64) is just a pretext (65) so that we can hang out together again (66). We had lunch (67) just two days ago, and wonderful conversations (68) about the future (69), about psychology (70), about art (71). I got to tell her about this wonderful book (72) I’ve been reading (73) on my iPhone (74): “The Origins of consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. (75)” It got us thinking and musing about what makes us tick (76). When we’re not stressed out, we’re always the best of friends (77).
Sunday, my sister and I will go to Pomponne (78), in the eastern Paris suburb, to visit my dear old dad (79) at the cemetery. It will be good to visit him (80) again, for the first time since December. There’s not a day when I don’t think of him (81), and hear his voice (82) in my own vestigial bicameral mind. It has good advice (83) for me, it speaks with confidence (84), with directness (85), with strength (86). I carry his perspective (87) into my life, and I take on the role (88) of pretending I know what to do (89), of denying the imposter syndrome (90), so I can help my kids (91), help my wife (92), help my family (93), help my coworkers (94)… and help myself (95), the way he helped me (96). I’m doing good things (97) with my life, moving forward (98) and following my bliss (99). I know he would be proud of me (100).
