One Day at a Time

One Day at a Time

We are by default, creatures of habit.  We hit the chopping block from 9 to 5 (or some version of that) nearly every day.  But every once in a while, there are days which feel as though the world is either going to crumble at our feet or swallow us whole.  Either way, it’s as if we have eighty-five things going on, everyone and their mother is trying to get ahold of us, and for whatever reason, we can’t solve a single problem to save our lives.  So why do we even have days like this?

Think about it.  Not every day is a dire tragedy--well, unless you work in utter monotony.  Then, you have issues.  Regardless, I’m fairly certain that we’ve all experienced at least a dozen (or more) gawd-awful days where nothing went right, life nearly ceased to exist, leaving us slightly traumatized and momentarily lost in our way for a bit.  Being faced with the tough days is what makes the good ones seem all the more pleasant. 

I know, this may come off like some cliche holiday-I’m-so-thankful rant, but it’s hard to deny being thankful for the days that happen so effortlessly.  You know the ones.  Everything seems to be going so-so.  There’s hardly a line at all at the coffee shop (and they made your drink correctly).  Painless conference calls, during which you actually achieve something, or solve a nagging problem, occur with ease.  There’s no traffic on the way to meetings.  Perhaps you even received an unexpected call or text message from your child with a funny emoticon that brought a smile to your face.  

It’s an odd perspective, but sometimes the habitual days that make life seem as though everything is boring and too normal, are the days to be thankful for.  As the end of 2015 draws extremely near, and holy cow does it ever feel like we are in a race to 2016, try to focus on each day at a time.  Think of it this way--we are lucky enough to wake up each and every morning with a fresh new day at our disposal.  Quite the gift, indeed.                             

Values & Cohesiveness