In a (probably vain) attempt to adopt a more positive attitude to life and shit, I decided to force myself to do the three things I’m grateful for daily thingummy. Or should that read three things for which I’m grateful, daily?
Whatever the syntax, it’s been proven, possibly by some tryhard boffin who secured a squillion Euro of European funding, that it takes 21 days to rewire the brain from being a compulsive neggypants to being the life and soul of every party and general distributor of joy with a kind word for everyone.
As I sit here, tapping my foot to the hypnotising rhythm of the dishwasher as the revolving spray arm thing repeatedly hits a plate that’s been carelessly stacked but I’ve been too lazy to get up and fix, I can’t help but notice that I haven’t fared too well in the gratitude challenge. I may of course be overthinking it. I’m assuming counting things like your children, your lover/partner, your dog, crisps, fags, nail polish and a supporting bra aren’t permissible or noteworthy . I imagine it’s all about intangibles: the wind in your hair, a baby’s laugh, the smell of clean washing and so on and so forth.
Thus far, as in since I started this on Monday, I’ve come up with the following:
- I haven’t killed anybody
- I’m still alive
- I haven’t been sacked.
- The restorative powers of a nice cup of tea
- Amazon Prime. It’s the shit! Nearly-instant gratification!
- Tucker’s tricks – especially the one where I shoot him going pcchhh and he verrrry slowly and verrrrry grudgingly (he’s got his eyes on the prize – a gravy bone) “dies” a hilarious spaghetti western style death, slowly rolling on to his back, bandy black legs akimbo. That’s ma boy!
- Nurofen Plus. The self diagnosed broken toe’s playing up again. Hypochondria City Arifreakinzona.
- The ‘block this caller’ function on my phone. Cold callers are getting more and more devious. They make it look like they’re calling from a quasi-familiar number: I had three calls in a row yesterday from Castle Douglas, Edinburgh and Annan respectively (none of which I answered, obviously, on account of my surly nature and lack of desire to speak on the phone unless it’s work related or it’s to inform me that I’ve won a holiday in the Bahamas)
- The sun. Giver of life, distributor of vitamin D, causer of good moods, preventor of tights wearing (I haven’t rocked the dreaded triple gusset since March), marker of time and all round good guy. I love you, man.
That’s it. I’m spent.
The weekend approacheth. Peace and love.