It's not my fault

I guess it was Anne Morrow Lindberg, in A Gift from the Sea, that introduced me to the idea that our perception of reality is based on our own filters. Thus, if we are in a foul mood, we only see the bad side of things, and filter out the good and the beautiful. Conversely, of course, Pollyanna or Carol on a good day sees only the best in everyone and everything. This may work as a philosophy, but it fails to explain a bad day.

A bad day is not catastrophic, just a day full of glitches. I needed to call a company, call it Ajax. After listening to a litany of worthless options, I got through to "Chuck" from Bosnia, who has trouble pronouncing Ajax, and is useless. Try the website for the company, try "Contact Us," and you get two options: scroll through a page of FAQ's that don't apply, or call the new number, and you're back to Chuck.

I gave up, wrote them a letter, put it with the rest of the mail, including some thoughtful cards for friends with special occasions. We sent to the mailbox at the post office, always on the passenger side, and CJ tries to mail the stack of envelopes. He gives them a little toss, they all miss the slot and land in the gutter full of swiftly flowing water. I jump out, wade after them, squeeze past the car behind us, and got some of the sopping envelopes, but not Ajax, before they went down the storm drain.

My attitude did not cause these events. It's not my fault.