I Have a Beautiful Life
Yesterday was a clusterfuck.
I got in the car at 11 a.m. to leave for a 11:15 a.m. Covid test and the car did not start. The battery was dead.
The exact same thing had happened the day before. Lauren had gotten in the car to go to a dentist appointment and the battery was dead.
The day before, I called AAA and they came to the rescue and gave the car a jump and brought the battery back to life. Or so I thought.
Turns out that the battery was old and didn’t have the will to live any more.
Unfortunately, this time, I didn’t have time to call AAA, so Uber came to the rescue to take me to my appointment. I got their late, but I was able to get my test (it came back negative in case you were wondering), and Uber took me home because that is what Uber does.
When I got home, I called AAA, and they came in five minutes, which was also the time it took to install a brand-new battery and charge my credit card $149.
Then the HVAC guys that I had called a few days ago decided to show up unexpectedly to do some work and were stomping around in the attic so I had to hang out in the kitchen to get away from the noise.
None of this was what I expected for my day, but in the midst of all of this chaos, I thought, “I have a beautiful life.”
This feeling is fleeting. I cannot explain why I sometimes feel gratitude on days when things don't go my way, or why sometimes I feel pissed off on day when things do go my way. But I am glad I can feel.
Today, I am off to the set for another day on the TV show that I’ve been cast in, which I can't talk to you about because I signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement. (That is why I had to take a Covid test in the first place).
And while I know it will be a long, grueling day on the set and I probably won’t get home until 1:30 in the morning, I feel grateful that I have the life I do. Not sure when this feeling will change, but I’ll take it for now.
Jimmy: One of the reasons I have a beautiful life, and so many of us who know you do, is because you are in it. Your vulnerability and honesty always get me. And you're funny as hell. You remain my brother in dysfunctional family recovery. Warmly, Lou