Well, despite a definite lack of "Christmas-y" weather my holiday was good, and I hope yours was too. We were able to spend lots of time with family and friends who we don't see often enough, shower and be showered with gifts, and eat entirely too many empty calories. Overall, it was most excellent.
Speaking of gifts, I had a bit of an epiphany about myself recently at the hands of some of the presents I received, and since it's a bit humorous and I've never been one to shy away from laughing at myself, I thought I'd share it with you. Apparently, I've taken to living my life as if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race. Allow me to explain.
One of my Christmas gifts was a chair from Ikea, parts of which arrived yesterday. I freely admit that my "spatial intelligence" is a bit weak - I cannot "see" three dimensional images in my head, I'm miserable at reading maps and I have been known to get lost driving myself home from work - so when I'm confronted with directions that look like this:
I usually bow out and make my husband do it. But for some reason, this time I decided that I HAD to be the one to assemble the furniture. Indeed, I had convinced myself that absolutely no one else could do it but me, that the fate of the furniture's assembly rested entirely in my hands and that I could not seek outside help for any reason. And the reason for this sudden swell of assemblage responsibility made perfect sense in my mind - what if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race facing a "road block" challenge that I alone was responsible for completing in a timely fashion while my teammate watched and waited helplessly on the sidelines? Failure to assemble the footstool would mean that my team would make it to the "pit stop" in last place, and we'd be eliminated from the one million dollar prize. I allowed this fearful prospect to be my inspiration while I successfully conquered the directions, assembled the furniture, and kicked my spatial intelligence's ass. Go team!
Later on that evening, I was playing a game on our new wii (so awesome!) and found myself on a particularly challenging level. I failed for about 3o minutes at killing the requisite number of rabid bunny rabbits needed to pass the level, and I was frustrated beyond words. Again, I found myself tempted to pass the controller to my husband and make him do it for me until, once again, I found inspiration in The Amazing Race. I hunkered down, gritted my teeth and taught those rabbits a lesson that they won't soon forget. Phil Keoghan would be proud.
Since then, I've sort of let this philosophy permeate my daily life. So far today, it's helped me while I cleaned my house, waited in line at Panera and wrote this very post. It's proven to be a most excellent resource for me, and I hope that you too may take inspiration from it. Consider it my gift to you. Don't say I didn't get you anything for Christmas.
Speaking of gifts, I had a bit of an epiphany about myself recently at the hands of some of the presents I received, and since it's a bit humorous and I've never been one to shy away from laughing at myself, I thought I'd share it with you. Apparently, I've taken to living my life as if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race. Allow me to explain.
One of my Christmas gifts was a chair from Ikea, parts of which arrived yesterday. I freely admit that my "spatial intelligence" is a bit weak - I cannot "see" three dimensional images in my head, I'm miserable at reading maps and I have been known to get lost driving myself home from work - so when I'm confronted with directions that look like this:
I usually bow out and make my husband do it. But for some reason, this time I decided that I HAD to be the one to assemble the furniture. Indeed, I had convinced myself that absolutely no one else could do it but me, that the fate of the furniture's assembly rested entirely in my hands and that I could not seek outside help for any reason. And the reason for this sudden swell of assemblage responsibility made perfect sense in my mind - what if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race facing a "road block" challenge that I alone was responsible for completing in a timely fashion while my teammate watched and waited helplessly on the sidelines? Failure to assemble the footstool would mean that my team would make it to the "pit stop" in last place, and we'd be eliminated from the one million dollar prize. I allowed this fearful prospect to be my inspiration while I successfully conquered the directions, assembled the furniture, and kicked my spatial intelligence's ass. Go team!
Later on that evening, I was playing a game on our new wii (so awesome!) and found myself on a particularly challenging level. I failed for about 3o minutes at killing the requisite number of rabid bunny rabbits needed to pass the level, and I was frustrated beyond words. Again, I found myself tempted to pass the controller to my husband and make him do it for me until, once again, I found inspiration in The Amazing Race. I hunkered down, gritted my teeth and taught those rabbits a lesson that they won't soon forget. Phil Keoghan would be proud.
Since then, I've sort of let this philosophy permeate my daily life. So far today, it's helped me while I cleaned my house, waited in line at Panera and wrote this very post. It's proven to be a most excellent resource for me, and I hope that you too may take inspiration from it. Consider it my gift to you. Don't say I didn't get you anything for Christmas.
3 Comments:
Ooh, ooh- what chair did you get? Is this to replace the Nintendo chair?
And perhaps I should start doing the same thing too. For when we go on AR as contestants together... :)
This, Maggie, is a choice between two comments, each with it's own pros and cons. In "Jealousy" you must tolerate my constant admiration as I covet your new nintendo equipment. While the task isn't physically challenging, you may find my constant adoration somewhat annoying and difficult to endure. In "Beratement" you must withstand my psychological and physical torment in response to your inability to assemble basic swedish furniture. While physically demanding, steadfast teams will be able to proceed through the task quickly and move on to future posts. Remember, bloggers must complete one of the tasks described in the comment in order to compose their next post.
Carrie - so far it's just a foot stool, but after a second UPS delivery it will be a poang, and I'm hoping it will replace the Nintendo chair although Nathan's having a hard time letting go.
Paul - you can come play my wii whenever you like as long as you promise two things: 1. don't make fun of my virtual tennis skills/amazing race life philosophy and 2. don't throw the controller through my television screen.
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