i’m rarely at a loss for a title
What if one day everything wasn’t just like it always is.
Your roommate walks into the kitchen in the morning and says, “The dream I had last night was not weird at all. It was exactly like everyday life. I won’t even bore you with the mundane details.” Then you get on the bus and the person who looks kind of like your friend Brianna from high school, actually is your friend Brianna from high school, and you guys have a nice chat. You get to the office and your boss smiles and says, “There’s no need to prepare yourself for a tough day, it’s going to be pretty laid-back around here. How about I make you an espresso?”
You run into a co-worker and when you ask the obligatory, “How are you?” instead of saying, “Fine” they launch into a detailed description of their mother’s cancer and how the orchids in the lobby are so beautiful that they briefly entertained the idea of stealing them. You say that at lunch you are willing to create a distraction while they take the flowers, and you are actually dead serious.
You go on the court run and all the clerks’ terminals are open and ready for business and the line moves quickly. When the man in front of you is told there is something wrong with his paperwork instead of screaming like a toddler who has lost his juicebox, he shrugs and and says, “Can’t win em all I guess.” Instead of pretending to ignore the handsome bike messenger behind you, you turn and look him in the eye with all the intensity you can muster and say, “Hi.” Instead of pretending to ignore you, he hangs up his iphone and returns your gaze steadily as he says, “Hi.” Then he looks down at the iphone and says, “You know iphones aren’t even that great.” He asks you to dinner. You accept.
The man who plays the stringless violin at the Civic Center Muni station has acquired some strings, and the sounds of a mournful irish melody stop the commuters in their tracks. When he finishes there is thunderous applause and instead of just thinking about giving him a dollar, you actually give him a dollar, and he thanks you, and you thank him, and you are both dead serious.
Your mom calls to say that it seems like you are doing a really good job at life, and she has absolutely no advice to give you whatsoever. An editor calls to tell you that, although you are too afraid to actually submit anything, she has somehow run across your work and fallen in love with your delicate prose. She wants to offer you a freelance job writing an article about whale songs. This may require travel to a tropical locale.
You return to the office to find that the paralegal has left a peanut butter cup on your desk.
You ride home on the bus. The setting sun on Market St. makes you squint your eyes. Your apartment is waiting, and dinner, and roommates, and for a moment you are insanely happy. You’re glad that this part actually happens everyday.