Gwinne's Take on the Universe

This morning, driving to pick up LG’s prescription, I finally broke down and started crying when an older man on a BIKE cussed me out (I couldn’t hear him, but the gesture was clear) because he was pedaling smack dab in the middle of the pharmacy entrance and, apparently, he didn’t want to have to move. It wasn’t exactly clear where he thought my car should go, other than disappear entirely.

I teach literature. I interpreted this moment, like everything else, as some hugely significant instance of synecdoche (metaphor in which part stands in for the whole). This man was an asshole, therefore all people are assholes. Not exactly. But it made me think about how much I thanked—excessively—the pharmacist who helped me out earlier this week. Because, honestly, I don’t expect the best from people. I expect to be ignored, disappointed, cussed out, stolen from, taken advantage of. (I'm not referring, of course, to family or friends or folks who read this blog and comment, but random strangers who have no personal connection to me.) My mother told me that if a person has a picture of a child in a wallet, they are 90% likely to have it returned. Yeah, not so much. Didn’t work out with my laptop, either. So on those very rare occasions when people—grocery store clerks, pharmacists, librarians—are genuinely nice, I’m truly overwhelmed by it.

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I broke a bowl this morning, putting it away. That didn’t even register as something to be remotely upset about, even in the oh damn, I’m going to have to replace it, we’re down to four cereal bowls sort of way. Certainly there’s merit to that old saying don’t cry over spilt milk. But I find myself wondering, if, on the one hand, getting overly upset about mundane nonsense like a broken bowl is, well, silly, then on the other hand, might a lack of getting upset at all indicate that one’s tolerance for problems/drama/whatever is just a bit too high? I’m certainly not Pollyanna (anyone who reads this blog would know that!), but shouldn’t I be more upset about the wallet and the miscarriage and all the crap that’s happened over the past few weeks (not to mention the rest of the year)? Am I just in a serious state of denial? Or is this indicative of decent mental health and perspective? I’m just thinking about that today, while LG lies in bed, napping (napping!) nursing her ear.