Day: (n) the time between sunrise and sunset

I certainly would not want to be so presumptuous as to suggest that I have found some pearl of great price or fragment of wisdom that is life-changing for every human soul.

But it works for me.

And honestly, it’s difficult for me to care about you if I feel maladjusted.

I’m not nearly as likely to sense empathy for your modicum when I’m toiling with my “bottom of the barrel.”

And I do want to feel for you—somewhat. Enough to be helpful, but not so much that I’m taking phone calls in the middle of the night.

So I will tell you, the best thing I do—the happiest discovery, the most intelligent endeavor and the “eternal” that seems to bring me life—is taking every single day and breaking it down into as many pieces of possibility as I can.

When I make out a “Things to Do Today List,” I include waking up, putting my feet on the floor, morning pee and brushing my teeth.

That’s four things right there.

For instance, by the time God did four things in Genesis, there were birds in the sky.

I don’t say this because I want to be silly or make meaningless things possess significance.

I just think if something I do is unique, it deserves a moment of celebration.

For bluntly, there is nothing like waking up.

No moment in my day will be quite like that first splash of awareness that enters my mind, when I translate from sleep to reality.

Likewise, throwing my legs out of the bed and onto the floor may be the greatest exertion ever undertaken—I mean, in comparison to other times when I exercise and already warmed up.

Must I defend the beauty and the glory of the first morning pee? I love to hear it as it hits the porcelain and splashes into the tide. I love the power I feel when I change the color of a toilet full of clear water.

Brushing the teeth—it is the symbol of salvation. Dirty incisors and crusty molars being immediately transformed into shining stars in my mouth simply by a minute-and-a-half cleansing.

And that’s just to begin my day.

Don’t forget dressing.

Breakfast.

A little reading.

Catching up on some emails.

Stepping outside to see what the day has to offer.

There are so many highlights in one day that are set apart and precious. How dare we ever discuss a week? A month? Or a year?

Take no thought for tomorrow, for tomorrow has its own problems.

Consider the day.

Pack it full.

Rally around its possibilities.

Regale its offerings.

Giggle at its missteps.

And tenaciously survive its grumbles and complaints.