Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Another Story for the Grandkids

I have this theory that your life alternates between phases of relaxation and extreme uncertainty.  Like, you're just getting used to this whole out-of-the-womb thing and then bam, you're being potty trained.  But then after a while you get used to your big-kid underwear and you slip right back into the redundancy of toddler life.

Like every other twenty-something, I am in the midst of one of those rocky, uncertain phases when I have absolutely no idea what my life will look like in two years.  You can plan all you want but sometimes things like non-absorbent underwear and cross-country moves just sneak up on you.

I'm having the time of my life but it also can be pretty tiring.  Worrying about one future is hard; trying to worry about ten alternative futures is downright exhausting.  And the only person who rivals Nikki (my hangry alter-ego) in hostility is her unnamed, sleep-deprived cousin.

But I am slowly learning to cope with the anxiety by appreciating the little things in life.  Like blooming flowers.  The sun on my face.  The smell of fresh cut grass.

And winning.

You might remember a certain story I told a few weeks ago about a time when, despite my best efforts, I did not win.  Well, that was one battle lost but the war was not over.

Before you ask (mom): no, I did not try to adopt another Olypmic athlete.  No, this was just your average case of trying to convince your significant other to refer to you as "Jarvis".

I know that this probably deserves some explanation, so here is the background story:

Every morning, Derrick and I have a pretty standard routine that includes me drinking my morning tea and Derrick making himself lunch.  One particular morning a few weeks ago, as I was enjoying my typical chai, I was in the thick of a very involved Facebook conversation between some friends from college.

It turns out that one of my friends (a teacher) was in a tricky situation: some of her students had found her on Facebook.  She understandably wasn't too thrilled and was consulting us on what name she should use to mask her online identity.

We ran through the standard list, Hubert Cumberdale, Yolotli, Dr. Billinbop, but nothing really stuck.  I was personally drawing a complete blank... until inspiration struck.  As if God himself was speaking, I looked up to see the cast of Good Morning America introducing Jarvis P. Weasley, the cross-eyed cat.

Without thinking, I offered up this pure literary gold to my friend.  But just as quickly as I suggested it, I retracted the idea, instead calling dibs on it myself.  Closing my computer, I announced to Derrick that he should address me as Jarvis until further notice.

I think Derrick's reaction speaks volumes about our relationship; not even looking up from his peanut butter sandwich, he told me, "No, Nicole.  Your name is not Jarvis."

But as you probably guessed, I was not deterred.  For the rest of the morning, I refused to respond to any correspondence with this "Nicole," of whom I had never heard.  At one point, exasperated, he relented enough to call me "Jarvs."  It wasn't perfect, but it was something I could work with.

But over the next few weeks, more for the sake of efficiency than anything, I eventually spent less and less time trying to convince him that I was Jarvis, and started to responding to Nicole.  Every once in a while, I could get him to begrudgingly say, "Goodnight, Jarvs."  But that was about it.

Until yesterday, that is.

During lunch, I texted Derrick and admitted that I was in a very irritable mood.  (In case you've never experienced it, discovering that you are in an irritable mood is the most annoying realization.  It's like you are doomed to be aggravated all day with the added bonus that you can't even feel justified about it.)

I had all but given the day up as a loss, until this:

And that, my friends, is why our society values hard work and patience: never give up, and you never know what you can accomplish.

And with that... take it away, Wednesday.
I'm having a writer's block lately; give me something to write about so I don't have to keep telling weird stories.

Want more tea? Have a second cup!
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