Every day there is always something interesting.
Maybe nothing grand, usually it is nothing grand, and often it is something common or ordinary, or just weird.
Like the sun on my face. A storm rolling in. Wet leaves plastered to the sidewalk. A tree burdened with crabapples. Starlings chattering as I walk by. The wind tugging at my jacket, tossing my hat, giving me a merry chase!
I marvel at cracks in the sidewalk and the persistent, amazing weeds that insist on growing there.
I scoop the litterbox and wonder at the way the litter clumps, like miniature hoodoos. I am amazed at how much shit my cat has in him!
I find a spot I haven’t vacuumed in a while and behold! Enough cat hair to make mittens!
I savour a forbidden chocolate bar while no one is looking. Or chip wagon french fries (with lots of no you can’t have this salt).
I hopscotch on faded chalk squares, delight in children’s laughter.
I laugh when I can’t fold my laundry. I spill toothpaste on my new shirt. When I do something stupid (so I laugh a lot).
The list is endless.
Every morning as I go through my usual mundane routines, I ask myself, how could you not want this? How you could you no longer desire to experience the weirdness of life?