It’s sunny and moderate, your basic beautiful June day, and all I have for you is…ugh.
I am a sea of ugh.
I am awash in ugh.
Also it’s almost your basic beautiful June day, because we are under an air quality alert, so look but don’t touch.
Yesterday, I didn’t want to do anything, but ended up doing far, far more than I wanted to do. Thing after thing after thing.
I guess the plus side is they got done.
The minus side is I had to do them, and the break I wanted to take got consumed by “just one more thing.”
Ugh.
I warned you about the ugh.
So today is a day of complaining, why not. Almost any day is a good day to complain, if you have the notion.
It doesn’t mean that anyone will actually listen to it, mind you.
And we all say: ugh.
There are always days of ugh. Some we feel rumbling in like thunder; others sneak up on us from dark corners and yell “surprise!”
Still, because we grumble doesn’t necessarily mean we give in to the ugh. We can let it walk alongside us, our constant, grouchy companion.
A little company to navigate the ugh.
I’m seeing plenty of people out, I guess they didn’t get the air quality memo. That will be their own ugh, maybe.
I think because lives are on display at all hours all day, week after week, month after month, we feel a pressure to project some kind of perfection. I think that’s why the young’uns are posting “ugly selfies,” or pictures that show something other than an ideal image.
Or they were. That article is a few years old, they may be on something else by now, but they seem like a generation with a built-in cynicism for fakeness.
I like it.
Perfectly finished to-do lists with nary a weary sigh, ease with difficult or scary things, balancing everything like an acrobat born air dancing out of the womb, we don’t have to pretend any of it.
I accept my day of ugh.
I hope you accept yours too, if ever one should arise.
But not today because I wish you a wonderful Thursday.
A Bit to Read 
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