I have come to realize that my purpose in life is to make other people feel better about themselves. But not in an obvious, in your face kind of way. No, that's not my style. I like to improve other's self esteem in a way that makes them think I wasn't even trying.
Like how I let the hedges grow to where they almost touch the eave of the porch roof. It's not laziness. It's not an unwillingness to do manual labor. I simply want the neighbors to take pride in their own homestead. This way they can take a break from the daily grind of suburban competition and their home still looks good in comparison.
Or when I go into the office with my hair casting an aura about me that is similar to a witch who was electrocuted in a rainstorm. I sacrifice myself, my own personal appearance, so that the other ladies can get a little boost. It has nothing to do with me waking up ten minutes before I'm supposed to leave the house. Or ten minutes after. Whatever.
I also drive down the road in a van that hasn't been through a car wash since 2005. I notice the superior looks of my fellow drivers and it warms my heart. I will joyfully give up any hope of a resale value, as long as the Lexus cutting me off goes about their day with a spring in their step.
Sure, I'd like to be the Super Mom that breezes through the mall, perfect child in tow, clothing immaculately pressed, hair coiffed to salon standards. But that is a dream I will have to sacrifice for the good of the cause. I'm willing to leave the house unkempt. Disheveled. Wearing a t-shirt that has bathroom caulk permanently embedded in its fibers. Screaming child hanging upside down. And I do this for you, readers.
It's all about you.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Whaddya think about that?