The Day I Stopped Making Excuses

I woke up that morning and my first thought was of the beautiful resolution that had lullabied me to a sweet sleep the night before to never again make an excuse for any of my failings, large or small.

It was a comfort knowing that now by sheer force of will and moral fortitude I would with confidence stand up to any challenge and, if it was hard, go forth and persevere and, if it was easy, persevere as well.

Oh, if you had only seen the bounce in my step, the sunshine, light and joy that radiated from my eyes as I looked around my bedroom and listened to the couple in the neighboring apartment start their regular routine of grinding coffee, cooking breakfast, heading out the door.

All around me was painted in a new hue. The neighbors — I’ll tell them today that they ought to cut down on the noise, and I’ll tell the landlord I can’t pay such high rent for a place with paper thin walls.

Then, I thought as I lay in bed, when I go to get dressed and see the poverty inside my wardrobe, I won’t curse the wardrobe, I’ll look at my bank account and set aside the money that I need to buy fresh clothes.

My fantasy grew and grew until they soared to heights I never even thought my imagination could conceive. That thing at work, that one man who’s always pointing out my mistakes, especially when Claudia from marketing walks by — today, at the office, today I’ll tell him he’s a goon.

Hell, why not ask Claudia out while you’re at it? Yes, that’s right — brilliant idea. I’ll step up and humiliate that goon and turn around to Claudia and tell her that I love her. Love her? Isn’t that a little rash? No, my inner dialogue continued, it’s too weak — to prove you mean it, bring her flowers.

My body was bursting with anticipation at the day and at all the things I would accomplish this one day, the first day of my life with no excuses. And with a sudden jump, like a race car spinning wheels in place then charging off, I flew out of the bed, flinging the covers to the floor and ran to the bathroom to relieve myself.

Then, brushing my teeth, I continued to dream, when I observed marching over the top of the mirror something brown and realized it was a little cockroach. He stopped and turned towards me, as if to say hello, and I laughed at him — what a friendly fellow, he must be here to celebrate with me the joy of my aliveness.

The ‘roach lifted his little front leg and waved at me and turned and kept on marching along and I nodded at him slightly and kept on brushing my teeth, content.

In retrospect, friends, that was the moment I could’ve realized that the day was perhaps not going to turn out quite as I had dreamed as I lay in bed. Because that cockroach, you see, I thought it was a friendly wave that it had given me but, in fact, I learned later, it was a smirk.

We’ll get to that.

Buoyed by what I thought was a friendly roommate’s gesture of support, I hopped out of the bathroom into the bedroom and started getting dressed and looked at the clock and realized I had 3 minutes to catch the bus. No sweat, though, no excuses today! And I gathered my work laptop and threw on the clothes I’d left out on a chair the night before and ran out the door just in time to get on the bus two blocks away. I sat down and exhaled and with the corner of my eye I saw something on the seat next to me and turned and realized — there he was, the little cockroach, once again.

Well isn’t that lovely, I thought. My companion here, with me, supporting me on this journey. It’ll be an easy day.

And he just sat there, still, in the middle of the seat. I did feel supported.

When I — we — got to our bus stop I got off and walked another five blocks to the office and walked up the stairs and I didn’t even trip once on my shoelaces, and I waved politely to the security guard, who recognized me and nodded solemnly, as he always does, and I walked through the long aisle of cubicles and sat down at my desk.

And now imagine my surprise when I started logging into my computer and I saw in the corner of my right eye something moving, something brown, and I turned, and it was that same cockroach. Now I was getting a little bit concerned.

“Hey, does anyone know anything about cockroaches, folks?”

My cube mates were silent, they didn’t say a thing.

“OK, whatever,” I said. “Thanks for the help.”

As soon as I said that the cockroach scurried off, as if offended.

Finally, I thought to myself.

I was almost nose-deep in scrolling through the necessary spreadsheets when I heard the footsteps — so ominously familiar after working in that company 12 years — of that goon who works next to me and before my brain had fully processed I felt a hard thump-slap on my back and I jumped up.

“Well hey there little cockroach boy, I heard you’re scared of roaches and you’re bringing them to work, is that true?” And he laughed, and I heard from the other side, behind me, the sweet high-pitched laugh of the woman I loved.

Inside I boiled with rage but I said to myself, on the outside, I’m going to be calm and pure, no excuses.

“You are a goon,” I said to him, then turned around to face Claudia. “And you are the love of my life. Go out with me.”

There was a silence and I could see the tops of head start to peak over cubicles. And then I saw the little cockroach peak out from over the edge of my cubicle, and I swear I saw it clap.