When the sheer shittiness of your day includes but certainly isn't limited to:
- face planting into gravel mid-sprint because you underestimated the pointy elbows of a gaggle of pavement-hogging Gujarati grannies, and successfully reduced your morning run to a short lived sprint followed by a slow walk of shame homeward.
- enthusiastically reversing your big, blue SUV swiftly and tragically into another big, un-blue SUV and then accidentally flinging your nicest (and only) pair of slippers out the car window as you attempt to cope with your delicious cocktail of horror and terror.
- wasting roughly 5 hours trying to upload a 3 minute clip onto Youtube, until you realize that a stationary cow would probably move faster than Indian internet ever will.
- arguing yourself hoarse with your under-qualified, overenthusiastic printer who insists that 'No Madam, I simply cane-note do that', when you know for a fact that 'Yes Sir, he simply cane do that, because the blessed man has done it approximately 23424 times before'.
- swinging your 50 pound kettle bell into your unsuspecting and perfectly located left thigh and then spending the next thirty minutes having a pity party with your icepack and left thigh and every ounce of negative energy you have collected and harvested through the day.
- and finally coming home smelling so godawful and making such vicious, godforsaken faces at anyone who crosses your path that for a second there- you are rather relieved that the only person you'd share bed and intimate space with happens to live thousands of miles away.
So you let the day win. You flop on breezy balcony couch. Stare deep into the eyes of beloved black dog. Ask dog and smoggy, open night sky to please, for heavens sake, just make it all better and get me a glass of wine. Muster the energy to open laptop. Start clicking through freshly edited photographs of Kutch. Briefly flounder that it is only Tuesday, and there is large chunk of week that still lies ahead. Ignore the panic and the tears. Keep clicking. Gradually approach happy place and focus your energy on World's Largest Salt Desert and the memory of jaggery melting onto freshly roasted millet rotis onto melting Sana heart. Pull yourself together and write a non-whiny, very responsible blogpost about the development of Kutch, and the incredible, amazing mother that led you there in the first place. Save blogpost- for another day, for another post. Go get yourself that glass of wine and embrace shitty Tuesday real tight.