I’m the boss. I own the building.

At home we use high quality toilet paper. In fact, it’s Charmin, a brand known for being squeezeably soft.

The T.P. at our office isn’t soft. This has been going on for more than ten years. I’m sure I’m saving money, but which bottom line should I be more concerned about? (pun intended).

A month ago I asked our facilities manager to order a better quality T.P.

“I’ll bring some samples for you to look at,” he said. Brave man.

Today I found him in the hallway, talking to our HR manager.

“When do I get to see the samples?” I asked.

“We replaced all of the T.P. a few days ago. Do you notice the difference?”

“No.”

“The new stuff costs almost double what the old T.P. cost.”

“Can’t we buy Charmin?”

“This is supposed to be just as good.”

“We can do better. Have our janitorial service buy Charmin if we have to. At Costco of course.”

But I intend to make a point that is as solid as our office T.P. What I’m really talking about is quality. Quality of life.

None of us can afford the best of everything, and even if we could it wouldn’t bring us enduring happiness. I invite you to take a look at the poem Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson (link below). I first read this poem in junior high school. I still remember it, so obviously this poem has an impact.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44982/richard-cory

But if we surround ourselves with quality – quality people, quality experiences, quality thinking – our lives become more meaningful and enjoyable.

So, while I’m thinking about it, you can subscribe (yes, blatant self-promotion) to two entirely free web sites that will bring greater meaning into your life.

The first is my blog: Peopletoolsbook.com

Sign up and you’ll receive a free (I hope it’s worth somewhat more than that), short, and funny essay every Tuesday morning.

The second is Rattle.com. If you sign up you’ll receive a poem every day of the year. I think you’ll agree that many of these poems are wonderful.

Well, I started out talking about T.P. I ended up somewhere else. It makes perfect sense to me.

And I have nothing to do now but wipe a smile off of my face.

Alan

I currently live with my dad in the fourth-floor master suite of the house I built for him more than ten years ago. He is 103 years old and is more comfortable sleeping in his reclining chair in front of his TV in the living room. His caretaker and her fiancé live in a bedroom below.

I arrived carrying some clothing and personal items. Also a bowl of apricot jam.

The apricot jam was created from dried apricots that my daughter Jill brought with her to my son Craig’s house where we stayed together for a week. Craig’s mother-in-law transformed those dry and shriveled apricots into the most delicious jam I have ever tasted. Plump apricots, sweeter than kisses, in a thick syrupy gumbo. When I left I asked to take some with me. They gave me the entire bowl.

This morning while showering I thought about breakfast. I immediately began to salivate as I thought of starting my day with apricot jam on toast. Then I began to worry about how much jam was left in the bowl and how long it would last. After all, there are three other people living in this house, and I assume that one of their favorite foods, apricot jam, must be the same as mine (I might have a fixation). I worried they might have finished off “my” supply of jam yesterday while I was gone.

Then I “caught” myself. I am selfish. Of course. We all have to be a little selfish in order to survive. I want the jam for myself. I don’t want to share it. I want the bowl of jam to be in the refrigerator for me to enjoy. Only me. Am I a dog protecting his bone? Arf!

But I am also a socialized human being. I stop at every red light. Almost all of the time. I stand in line at the grocery store. I treat a friend to lunch at a restaurant. I am sooooo f***ing generous. Yup, I sure am. Except when I’m thinking about apricot jam.

So I took the high road. I realized that apricot jam is a resource from the earth and from my daughter Jill and my daughter-in-law’s mother. And from farmers and from Casa De Fruta in Hollister, California. And resources from the earth are supposed to be shared amongst all of us. Right? Like roads and lakes and national parks.

Accordingly, I hereby officially and publically announce that the bowl of apricot jam in my father’s refrigerator can be devoured and enjoyed by everyone.

Of course, you will have to search for the key to the lock on the refrigerator, and ignore my note on the bowl: DANGER – THIS JAM MAY BE DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH.

Enjoy!

Alan

P.S. It is now three weeks since I wrote this blog. No one else has touched my jam, and I think there is still enough for two, maybe three more breakfasts.

A few minutes ago I looked at my calendar for the day.  There is an appointment scheduled for 10:00 am – “TAKE TESLA IN FOR SERVICING.”

“Ugh,” I thought to myself.  “That will take me at least an hour.  I don’t have the time.  I don’t know much about cars, and other than the air conditioning not working, I don’t know what to tell them to do.”

In short, I was complaining to myself.

Suppose you said to me, “You are not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”  What would happen?

My chest would tighten, my blood pressure would rise, and my mind would automatically close up to whatever else you had to say. I would prepare to defend myself against both you and your bad news.

The same physiological changes take place when I complain to myself.  My self-inflicted “Ugh” says it all.  “Ugh” puts my body into a state of tension as I automatically try to shut me out from myself.

Everyone does this.  Sometimes we have a “poor me” or “victim” syndrome.  Sometimes we just don’t want to face a particular thought or situation.

But complaining to yourself is not inevitable.  It isn’t preordained.  You have the power to change your life story from “Ugh” to a consistent “Hurrah!”  Complaining to yourself is merely a habit, a painful and self-defeating habit.  As with any other habit, with consistent work and self-reminders, you can change it.

Step one – welcome all ideas, every single one, into your life.  Especially the ideas, “I don’t know what to do,” or, “I don’t want to face this.”  You can figure it out or ask for help.  I’m sure you have at least one friend who would love to help you.

Two weeks ago one of my hearing aids stopped working.  I didn’t want to face the problem.  After all, I had one left.  This morning the second one went kaput.  I immediately changed my “Ugh” into the cheerful thought that I had an opportunity to get out of the office for an hour and have both of them fixed, which I did.  I solved my problem with a happy drive to Costco.  (Yes, they have an excellent hearing aid service.)

Step two – in the coloring book of your response, use lively hues. Make the best of each and every thought or situation. If something is inevitable, why not just let it pass right through you and out the other side?

Years ago a friend lost his job.  I greeted him at dinner with, “Congratulations.  In six months you’ll have a job you like a whole lot more.”  And he did.

If, at this point, you are saying to yourself, Alan is Pollyanna and suggests that we find the joy in everything,” you would be correct.  Except in one respect.

A positive outlook is not unrealistic.  It colors my day joyful and helps me find the eventual pleasure tucked into the corner of every emotional ache.  More importantly, a positive outlook often brings with it a positive outcome.  I can welcome a successful future, rather than try to stop the future.

So what about the car?

After I asked a friend to take it in for servicing my day brightened immediately.

Smiles.

Alan