Viral joy

I spent last week in digestive misery. Food became the ultimate enemy. I tiptoed around chicken soup, I winced at a bite of toast. After trying to eat, I'd sit on my couch, awaiting my fate. Turns out, fate can be cruel. Repeatedly.

It's hard to find joy when your head's in a toilet. But here's my best shot:

joie de vivre: the stomach virus edition

joy is piling blankets so high you can barely move.

joy is bendy straws to prevent unnecessary head movement.

joy is questionable daytime programming.

joy is receiving pity phone calls.

joy is doctor-ordered popsicles.

joy is unlimited, guilt-free naps.

How's that for a silver lining?

(via loveyourchaos)

Moo.

Joy comes from buying chocolate milk. In bulk.

Sew what?

There are some things in life to which I freely admit defeat. For one, I can't wrap a gift to save my life. I use too much tape, my wrapping style always develops air pockets, and I never cut the right amount of paper, leaving slivers of the original packaging visible to the naked eye. Gift bags were invented for people like me.

I am terrible at sports. Literally every single sport you can think of, down to the sports that can be found on a "Seniors Activity List" at your nearest Assisted Living home. I could blame my genes or a sheer apathy towards competition, but whatever it is, sideline benches were invented for people like me.

Recently I've discovered something else to add to my list. Apparently, I'm down right awful at sewing. Awful. A few months back, I mended a pair of workout pants and managed to sew up the hole... granted, through a tangle of knots and too much thread... still, I considered it a victory. What once was a gaping hole of cotton/spandex blend was now sewn shut! Hurrah!

Tonight I sat down to sew a button on my winter coat. I started feeling nervous about this venture a couple of days ago when the button fell off and I chased it through the kitchen. I can do this, I not-so-confidently thought to myself. I have a masters degree! I was the editor of a literary magazine in college! What's so hard about sewing a button?

*Shakes head*

Apparently a number of things. After about 30 minutes of reasonable attempts (i.e. watching DIY videos online), I ended up calling in the big guns: my mother. She tried to explain it to me over the phone. "It's really quite simple, Lizzie... just [this is where I begin to lose track of what she's saying and ask her to start over again twice]." Annoyed that even her "Maybe if you drew a picture of my directions" exercise didn't work, I went to the fridge to get a beer.

Take two didn't fare much better. While I had somehow managed to get the button to stay, I quickly realized they weren't lining up with the machine-sewn buttons. Finally I grabbed some scissors and cut out my hard work.

My original intention for this entry was to be about the joy that comes from finishing a task, especially one that was difficult. The thrill of "I did that!" and the satisfaction of a job well done. But that wasn't the case. At all. So instead, today's joie de vivre are alteration shops.

Invented for people like me.

You know I believe and how.

Three cheers for a cover of a Beatles classic which doesn't make me want to throw things against a wall or go running towards the mute button. I dare you not to feel at least a little bit of joy with this one...