It's Kind of a Long Story... about EXCUSES
Because reasons.
Hey Drama Goblins,
This past Sunday was the one year anniversary of the day I moved back into the house.
I would have thought that thoughts or feelings about that would inspire reflection, ruminations or an epiphany or two.
But, it didn’t. It hasn’t. I spent the day on Sunday doing normal Sunday things. I didn’t feel the weight of a momentous moment.
I’m not sure what to make of that. I’m just gonna go with it.
I’m so glad you’re here,
Lara
I really needed a stinkin’ badge
Short Story
It took me a lot longer to make a thing than I thought it would and I was almost late for the thing. It made me think a thing or two.
Long Story
This morning I slept until 9:00am. I haven’t slept that late in many, many years.
Yesterday at 5:00 I got instantly, suddenly, hit-by-a-Mac-truck tired. That hasn’t happened in a very long time either. I tried writing, but typing for just a few minutes felt like I had run a marathon. A phone call and finishing a TV show kept me (barely) up until 11:00. I read about a page and a half before I drifted into the kind of delicious, yummy, deeply sleepy tired that has been so elusive for so long.
I woke up delightfully but suspiciously refreshed, glanced at my clock and was… alarmed. Internally, I repeated my oft-ranted rant that waking up with an alarm clock is unnatural and detrimental to our health. Animals in the wild don’t set an alarm clock, they wake up when their bodies are done sleeping.
Can you imagine what the world would look like if humans did too? How much happier and healthier it would be? How many fewer accidents and arguments?
As a freelancer, I’m (mostly) in control of my time. I’m grateful I don’t have to clock in anywhere, and didn’t miss a meeting or phone call.
But, I did have a networking event to go to, and needed to leave by 11:00.
That was plenty of time to do what I needed to do, which included making myself a name badge.
The last time I attended this event, one of the guests had her own name badge with her company logo. It looked so much better than the stick-on ones with our names handwritten in sharpie that the rest of us were wearing. I’d made one for myself in Canva, and just needed to print it out.
Easy right? Wrong.
First, I hadn’t made it in Canva. I could have sworn I did. I may have and buried it somewhere, but I couldn’t find it.
It didn't take too long to make another one (thank you Past Lara for creating and saving so many assets) but it didn’t take no time.
I downloaded the file and hit “print” with the shaky hope and metaphorically crossed fingers that I always have when I hit “print.” Second only to my rants about alarm clocks and animals are my rants about printers.
One of my post popular Facebook posts a few years ago was the exasperated exclaim, “They can put a god damn man on the god damn moon, but they can’t make a god damn printer that doesn’t break down every god damn week.” If you’ve ever worked in an office, you know how often the printer guy is there.
I was once reprimanded by my office manager for kicking the printer. I’m not excusing my behavior, but I maintain the Cannon had it coming.
I once joked that I was going to hire a “printern.” Not an intern, a flunky to do all of my printing for me.
The good news is, my printer printed! The bad news is:
I messed up and the image was sized to the entire page, not the 2” x 3” size I needed
The printer wasn’t kidding when it said it was “low on ink”
So, I replaced the ink, which also didn’t take much time, but it didn’t take no time. It took me a few tries to get the cartridges in right.
I go back to my computer and hit “print” again, walk back to the room where the printer is and… nothing.
Several of the lights are flashing, but I don’t know what they want from me. I turned the thing off (which I wish was a switch, not one of those buttons you have to press until it goes off and are never sure it’s actually off) and on again, go back to the other room and hit, “print.”
This time, something printed, but it wasn’t my badge. It was a weird test sheet that I had to place on the scanner and scan to calibrate the printer. Or something.
Once again, back to the computer, hit “print” and this time… success!
It looked great, but I couldn’t find the name badge holder I’d scored from Buy Nothing. Past Lara had failed me. She didn’t put it in any of the places Present Lara thought were obvious. Eventually, the two Laras did a mind-meld, and I found it.
That less-than-five-minute chore had now taken the better part of half an hour, and I made it to the event just in time.
The host is a stickler for time. She’s respectful of ours and her own and runs the meetings like a tight ship, which I really appreciate. The hour and a half goes very quickly and it’s always fun and productive.
On the way there, when I thought I might be late, the name tag mishegoss would have been my excuse. Or is it a reason?
I think a lot about the spectrum between reasons and excuses. There are so many times I haven’t done the thing. The whys feel like reasons and also like excuses and it’s so hard to know the difference.
I can be hard on myself for falling short of my own goals and expectations, but not so hard that I actually meet them.
There’s a line I read in a book that really landed hard for me. Someone asked a holocaust survivor why the Jews didn’t just leave Germany when they saw the writing on the wall.
The old man sighed and said, “A lot of Jewish families had pianos.”
Boom. Damn. I get it.
You bought the piano with the faith that it would always be there in your home. It represents your success. Your permanence. Learning to play takes discipline and time and the music is the reward for your hard work. It tells everyone who comes to your home that it is a place of culture, prosperity and security.
It’s not easily given up.
The piano the excuse and the reason that will keep you from doing what you know needs to be done. You see the political tides turning, and the thought of having to move or sell the piano is more than you want to deal with or face, so you tell yourself you’ll wait and see how things go.
And you do this over and over again until the S.S. is knocking at your door.
The difference between reasons and excuses often has to do with how much agency we believe we have.
I feel the same way about the difference between mistakes and choices. I maintain that a mistake is inadvertent. It’s wearing one blue sock and one brown one. It’s not something you could have done much to avoid. It’s not something you learn from.
It makes me stabby when people dismiss their poor, selfish, and unexamined choices as mistakes.
Because while the miss-matched socks were clearly mistakes, there were choices that lead up to them too. Maybe you didn’t pay attention when you were folding the laundry? Maybe you didn’t fold it at all? Maybe you were too lazy to walk across the room and turn on the light so you could see the socks better? Maybe you saw that the socks were miss-matched, shrugged and said, “Eh, no one will notice.”
Or maybe you didn’t see that the socks were two different colors until you were halfway to the networking event, and didn’t want to risk going back home to change them.
Because then you’d be late. And would you have a good excuse?
Lara Sez…
Listen!
80s Deep Cut of the Week!
Read!
The Latecomer is a wry, dry, funny, heartbreaking and sometimes frustrating family saga from the always-great Jean Hanff Korelitz.
Watch!
Lovesick is a terrific laundry-folding show. After being diagnosed with chlamydia, a young man revisits all of his past relationships. A bit of a twist on a not-uncommon plot device (See: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World and High Fidelity) done with charm and heart.
Follow!
Writer Toby Morton is on a mission! He buys up URLs to set up satirical sites that sear MAGAs. It’s wicked and wonderful.
Follow his antics at @wordclown
SenatorMikeMoon.com (who said it was OK for 12 year old to get married)
Eat!
OK, I totally respect that this will skeeve some people out, but if you’re working from home and/or want to get more protein and/or calcium in your diet, hear me out: Baked Cottage Cheese!
Spread a serving of cottage cheese on a non-stick liner-lined baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and garlic (I use TJ’s Black Garlic)
Bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes
It comes out looking like fake vomit, but it’s crispy, chewy. has a more intense cheesy flavor and is quite filling.
Before I let you go…
Thank you so much for reading to the end. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.
Made note to self to try vomit cheese.
I love the piano story. A sad excuse. I wonder if the writing is on the walls today.