The Sultan of Swagger or The Matron of Malarchy?

Let me begin by saying yesterday was purely dreadful. I felt like Br’er Rabbit after his fight with the tar baby. If you haven’t read that story, you should. There were no winners. But the thing about bad days is, they eventually end and the sun comes up and we get to start over.

And today was glorious! Although it was a little humid I didn’t complain. It was the first time in what felt like many moons that my bones weren’t frozen solid and I was feeling bouncy. I hopped up my hills with Br’er Rabbit’s energy and thought warm, Springy thoughts. While walking I thought about how good it is to be alive, and how lucky I am to be mobile and mostly carefree. After my shower I moved to put pants on and discovered they were a little big. This would put anyone in a good mood but to me, that’s as good as winning the lottery.

So I stuffed my youngest beast-let into the car and we raced off to the babysitter and whammo! Red light. And another. And another. We hit every single red light on the way. But I was still in a good mood and I just kept bopping along thinking, nothing is going to rain on this parade. And then I hit traffic on the highway. So I’m sitting there under an overpass, blaring some 90’s grunge music and thinking, “This is the life. Sitting in traffic, listening to my favorite singer who died from a heroin overdose wail, while I wait to be late for work. This is great! I love my life.” I was so happy I began to wonder if the exhaust pipe in my car was clogged.

I finally arrived at work, 30 minutes late, and my boss, who is supposed to be in a meeting at another campus greets me, “Good morning, Margaret.” And a song starts to play in my mind…. “It’s a pretty good day and I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Because sometimes my life runs on a soundtrack. I don’t know why.

And then I see him. No, not my boss. Another guy. Let’s call him The Sultan of Swagger. He’s cocked back in a chair, wearing his winningest smirk all the while pontificating about “the business.” And it’s not what he’s saying, but how he’s saying it that catches my attention. His shoulders are relaxed, his neck is loose, and by the way his shoulders move as he speaks I know that he knows everything about anything. He is just one smooth guy.

Juxtapose this with me making my morning trip to the restroom to make sure my underwear isn’t showing because I forgot a belt(baggy pants, remember?) In there I meet a coifed and casual woman who gives me the standard “How are you today?” greeting.

I should have said fine and moved one. But instead replied, “I’m feeling a little Annie-ish this morning.”

“Pardon me?” She says.

“I’m feeling a bit like Little Orphan Annie this morning.” I say. “You know, (and I begin to sing with exagerated arm movement) It’s a hard knock life for us…” (because as I mentioned earlier it’s humid and now that my hair is dry I feel that I look like a grown up version of the sunny little red haired girl, even though I don’t have red hair).

My co-worker says, “You’re cute.”

Which is exactly what I want to be in the work place. Not Professional, but Cute.

Back to The Sultan. He is new in our area and in reality knows very little about anything. But you would never know this to have a conversation with him because he is so self-confident he could impress a donkey. And for one fleeting moment I wonder if I should be more like him. I mean, I could hold my shoulders that way and cock my head to the side and give off quirky little grins. I could nod my head and use big words. People might even look at me and say, “Look at Margaret. She is one professional lady.”

Alas, that is not who I am, but sometimes I like to think I can swagger. Usually it comes off as more of a goofy grin, wherein my nose crinkles and my eyes get lopsided and I end up looking like a reject from an episode of Seinfeld, but that’s not the point. It’s the attitude that counts. Even if I am just the Matron of Malarchy, when I walk down the hall I hear “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Jees and I am every bit as cool as John Travolta was over 30 years ago. And that’s saying something.

I may never be rich. I may never be glamorous. I may never find the cure for the saggy baggy tummy. BUT give me a warm day filled with sunshine, and the satisfaction of knowing I did the very best I could(even in adverse circumstances) and I am one happy girl. Sometimes we have to experience the bad days to really appreciate the good ones. Even if the reason my pants were too big was because I accidentally picked them out of the pile of clothes I slimmed out of months ago.