My B+ Attempts at Being All That

I'm funny. I promise. If you don't believe me, ask me; I'll set you straight.

The Stuff I’ve Left Behind

on December 1, 2016

I have a bad habit of leaving things wherever I go: my water cup, my phone charger, my coat, my water cup, slippers, my water cup. I have backups to the backups on these things because I know myself. I’m a leaver. It’s pretty annoying. I mean, even I’m basically irritated by myself, and I’m the one doing the leaving. People know my cups, my coat, my charger. Because they’ve seen them a billion times after I leave. And I wouldn’t be surprised if one day my things came back to me with notes of exasperation. Sighs. Eye rolls. But the people who have hosted my things are always so very gracious. So full of patience for me. And so, unfortunately, I don’t learn my lesson, and I keep leaving stuff behind.

The Boomerang

But sometimes, I’ve left behind good things. Things like 10 pounds. Which then hunted me down and brought ten of their closest friends along to join the “Well, now I need to buy new pants” fun. And then did it a few more times just for a chuckle. I’ve left behind jealousy. Only to have it invite itself back to my dinner party that wasn’t quite as clever as the last one I’d been to. I’ve left behind yelling. Which then came back in a much-humbled state and now just looks a lot like a middle-aged lady mumbling nonsense replies to the voices no one else hears.


I’ve left behind bad things, too. Like hurtful words. Ouch. Still flinch when I think about those. I cringe when I mentally replay times that I have left behind judgement. Especially when I chose to ignore circumstances. Or even just a basic need to show a dose of humanity. I would love a backspace for the times I have left behind a poor decision. Or 300. Oh, that I could go back in time and pretend that I truly did not believe that a pair of MC Hammer pants would fix all that was wrong in my angst-y life. Or that a perm was all that. I messed up more than a few times.

And yet, If I’ve done my job right . . .

I’ve left joy. Lots of it. And if it decides to go all boomerang on me, then so be it. Come right back at me, joy. I’ll take it. Because some days, about all we can claim is that we put on pants. Or not. And then other days, we conquer the world. Many days, the choice is not ours. The day just happens. Rain happens. Or puppies happen. Or those same sweet puppies poop all over your best throw pillows, the ones that can’t be washed. And on those days, I say leave the joy. Leave it right on top of that pile of poop. Leave joy in the middle of the rain. Leave joy where you actually want to kick something. Because joy is the least irritating thing we can leave behind. Joy will never leave us wanting a backspace option. And quite frankly, joy is one of the best leave-behinds to come right back and smack our permed MC Hammer-wearing selves. Well, that and puppies.


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