I've decided I'm an incurable optimist.
I made the self-diagnosis several years ago while driving to work one morning.
I was running late, as usual. And encountered three red lights along the way.
At the first light, I thought: Maybe I should put on my lipstick while I’m stopped.
But the light was red when I pulled up to it, and I didn't know how much longer it would remain red. So I didn't bother digging through my purse to find the tube.
At the next red light, I knew it was on a short timer, so I simply sat and waited for it to turn green.
When I encountered the third light … at the moment when most people running late would be swearing under their breath … the following thought popped into my mind: Gosh, I'm getting a lot of opportunities to apply my lipstick today!
Even I didn't really understand how I remained so positive in that situation, but there you go.
I thought of that recently while caring for my coronavirus-positive husband. The virus hit him very hard but, luckily, not hard enough to require hospitalization.
I've been continuing to work from home while I fetch bottles of water, clean shirts, crackers, the oximeter and thermometer for him.
I also walk beside him to steady him on his frequent trips to the bathroom, have done several batches of laundry and am cooking for myself.
And my thoughts? Gosh, I'm sure getting a lot of steps on my Fitbit.
Incurable optimist, indeed.