This week was the kind where everything goes a little bit wrong. It was the kind of week that required a shift in expectations.
I expected the washing machine to work, but it broke.
I expected my computer to work so I could work on the post I had planned for today, but it’s not responding to anything I do.
I expected to finish a book I’ve been reading, but went to bed early two nights this week with headaches.
On Monday, I could tell this one was going to be a tricky week, so I got out my journal. I wrote down three things that went right. I expected to do that each day.
I gave up by Tuesday and started writing poetry instead. Because goodness, week. Sometimes poetry is a better choice. By Thursday, I was done with the poetry too.
By today, my expectations have shifted.
I didn’t expect my 5-year-old to be happy to see me at pick up today. I was right. She cried. Leaving school after the longest day ever is apparently totally awful.
I didn’t expect to have the energy to make dinner, so we ordered take out.
I didn’t expect to run. And didn’t.
Tomorrow, we will start over. At the laundromat, because broken washer is broken.
Plenty went right this week, too. Like these tiny high tops on the escalator. If that’s all I have in a week, it’s certainly enough. But if next week is a bit better, I’ll take it. Gladly.
Hey weekend. You look more awesome than usual.