When I let someone in traffic and they don’t wave, I picture myself using their guest soaps. – @a_simpl_man (Twitter)
This morning, this tweet literally made me laugh out loud, in recognition of myself – in more ways than one. I always find myself getting into a little tiz when someone doesn’t acknowledge my various small acts of kindness and consideration. But then I start admonishing myself that “I should do good, just for the sake of doing good, not for the appreciation and the pat on the back.” And then I spend more time thinking about how I really spend way too much thinking about situations like these, anyway. “For goodness sake, just let the guy come on to the road, and move on. Life is too short to waste time on overthinking about teeny perceived slights, by strangers. Grow up already!” Sometimes I honestly even waste my time spending it on the question, “Did the person I let on to the road, actually wave a thank you to me, and I somehow missed it because we were at a bad angle to each other?” Seriously. I can be that neurotic.
On the other hand, when someone lets me into traffic, I become almost frantic about making sure that they see my “wave of thankfulness.” I want to make sure that they see my gratefulness, so I become this crazy caricature of myself, waving like a maniacal buffoon. Sometimes I even stick my hands outside the window or through the sunroof, to make sure that the driver sees my symbol of gratitude and acknowledgement that I see them as one of the kind and thoughtful and patient people, that in my mind, makes this world a better place. Then, I imagine that the driver who lets me into traffic is thinking, “Calm down lady. It’s not like I bought you a new car. Take a chill pill.” And then once again, I get mad at myself for spending way too much time overthinking inconsequential happenings in my daily life, such as these.
This tweet also gave me a giggle about guest soaps. I grew up with guest soaps in every single bathroom of our house. And we knew NEVER to use those guest soaps, nor the fancy towels arranged pertly, by the ornate soaps. That would have been a deathwish. Those guest soaps sat there in their designated dishes, until they were infused with dust, stuck to the dish like they were super-glued onto the dish, and their once vibrant colors, faded to dingy dullness. These guest soap molds would start coming undone by time and by air, to the point that a soap which was once an intricate, detailed, lovely, expensive mermaid, was now nothing more than an oddly shaped lump that would more easily pass for maybe a hint of a manatee (and soon, even that became a stretch of the imagination).
I personally have Christmas guest soaps that I have owned for more than two decades. I put these soaps out in our powder room, every single year in an intricate Spode Christmas china soap dish. These soaps are clear glycerin with words like “Joy” and “Merry” infused inside of them. Last year I noticed that the clear glycerin has turned more into a muddled, dirty, grayish brown. These guest soaps have become so unsavory, that of course, now, no one would ever even dream of actually using the soaps, for sanitary purposes. (what an oxymoron) Still, I’m attached to these gaudy Christmas guest soaps. I contemplated it, but I just couldn’t throw them away last year. I will unpack the guest soaps again this year, and I will put them in the Spode dish, and all will feel right in my world this holiday season.
The other odd thing about fancy guest soaps is that they almost look edible, like fancy chocolates. When I was a kid, these soaps were scarily tempting to put into my mouth, to try and eat them. (It’s kind of like when you were a kid and no one could convince you that the Hershey cocoa powder would not, at all, taste like delicious hot cocoa packets. I think I had to learn that lesson more than once as a kid. I was a slower learner, in these ways of life.)
So, I just realized that I have spent about 40 more minutes of my life contemplating minutiae. And that’s okay. Just like waving or not waving to polite strangers, or using guest soaps or not using guest soaps, does not totally matter in the bigger scheme of things, it sometimes feels good to spend some time on “the small stuff.” Still, at the same time, it’s good to remember Richard Carlson’s famous, important, poignant line, “Don’t sweat the small stuff and it’s all small stuff.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.