I wake to a strange reddish cast of light in my room. Is it the apocalypse? I get out of bed and stumble my bleary way to the window and there in front of me is the most incredible dawn.
This has to be an omen of good things to come. Sure enough, while I’m getting dressed, I choose a shirt from my drawer I have not worn in months, and folded inside it is my missing sock from one of my favorite pairs.
Not thirty seconds before this discovery, I had noticed the sock’s orphaned mate in my drawer, and I had to wonder, I had to question: Is it time to give up hope? Is it time to add this solitary sock to the textile recycling bin? I couldn’t bring myself to do it yet. I kept hoping the missing sock would turn up. And then, the next instant—discovery! Glory!
My feet cradled in comfort, I rush downstairs because I can’t wait to get the day started. What pleasures, what victories, await me? My coffee has never tasted so good. My toast has never been so perfectly browned, the peanut butter never so spread evenly and all the way to the edges. Every bite is a gastronomic delight.
To my desk I go, brimming with confidence . . . no, not quite brimming. I’ve been stuck on a piece I’ve been writing for the past few days. The task has seemed daunting, the path forward muddy and perilous.
But the sunrise, the socks, the sublime breakfast—it’s all going so well. Still, I’m anxious. I decide to consult my magic eight ball. I ask the oracle: Will I finish this piece successfully?
The answer: Concentrate and ask again.
What torture! I thought I was concentrating. I shake the ball again. I hardly dare to look. There, the answer, a bit hard to see through the bubbles, but it’s the answer I’ve been waiting for: Without a doubt.
I get right to work with almost manic energy. Some problems I work out, others I don’t, and new ones appear. Then I get rained on later when out for a walk. But what a start to the day! I’ll cherish it forever.
