May I Interest You in a Glass of White Whine?

I’m super excited to have been invited to join a blog group alongside three talented bloggers.  Each week, one of us chooses a topic and we all post a blog entry on that topic, usually on Thursdays.   

Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:

Merryland Girl

Froggie

Moma Rock

Last week’s topic comes from Merryland Girl, who asked us to write about First World Problems.  Here’s my take:

                  Ah, last week’s post is late.  And it’s oh so thick with irony.

                  Ever reliable and organized, Merryland Girl sent us last week’s topic in a timely manner.  Ever the procrastinator, I put off writing.  (Excuse #1:  I work best under a deadline.)  I’ve gotten into the ugly habit of writing my posts the night before they are due.  Generally, this works.  Last week, it did not.  My kids and I decided to tag along on my husband’s business trip to Nashville, which was originally set for Friday.  Then, on Tuesday, the plan changed, as the meeting was moved to Thursday.  Suddenly, instead of leaving on Friday (after my post would have been done), we were leaving on Wednesday, the day I write.  No biggie.

                  But then, the sudden change in plans left me two fewer days to pack.  (First World Problem #1.)  It created additional issues.  My husband needed his dry cleaning back – now.  (FWP #2.)  The hotel reservation had to be changed.  (FWP #3.)  I had to email/call friends and family to update them of the new plan and get the house key to the friend who’d be checking on the cats and the car key to the neighbor in charge of moving the car to the correct side of the street.  (FWP #4, 5, 6.)  Et cetera.  We left on Wednesday morning without a hitch, but when we arrived, I realized some items I’d forgotten in our haste:  cotton balls, a lint roller for my husband’s suit, my laptop.  (FWP #7-9.)  No laptop = no post.  (FWP #10; Excuse #2)

                  My fellow bloggers understood (and my inadvertence led to a message exchange about items we need when we travel and how often we forget them.  Froggie needs her hair dryer; Moma Rock needs a fan.  I cannot seem to remember a toothbrush.  (FWP #11.)  Merryland Girl apparently needs to pack for us all.).

                  I must admit, though, I stressed about missing my deadline.  The journalist-turned-attorney in me does not like turning work in late.  I knew the world wouldn’t end.  I don’t get paid for doing this, so I wouldn’t lose pay.  But it bothered me.

                  Yes, I see the irony.

                  I know I am fortunate to own a laptop, to be able to take a trip to Nashville, to have a need for cotton balls and the means to drive to a Middle Tennessee Wal-Mart and purchase a fresh bag.  My hotel had running water and a pool and a soft, warm bed; my healthy, happy children and a seemingly content husband surrounded me.  And, yet, I felt stressed I’d forgotten a handful of First World items.  (And I didn’t hesitate to complain to my blogger girls about how the hotel hair dryer was so weak, the kids could blow on my head and dry my hair just as quickly.)

                  Truth is, I allow myself to get caught up in FWPs because I rarely think of them that way, and because they cause me stress.  Stress is stress, regardless of the source.  Sure, it comes in degrees – I’d much rather deal with changing a hotel reservation than an ill relative – but even little stressors can combine to wear someone out.  Or, at least, wear me out.  Could it be worse?  Of course.  But in the moment, that doesn’t necessarily matter.

                  In truth, I don’t think it’s realistic or even healthy to walk around saying, “It could be worse – I could be living in [insert name of Third World country] without [running water/food/roof over my head/freedom].  This doesn’t work because I can just as easily say, “It could be better – I could be living in [a mansion/a villa/Paris] with unlimited [money/gourmet food/household help].  Generally speaking, most humans (or at least most Americans) seem wired to want more, not less, and this desire drives us to work harder to achieve more.  Without this drive, we’d still be living in caves.  Of course, what that “more” looks like depends on the person, and by choice, many are ok with a more simple life.  But every lifestyle – from the most quiet, rural existence through the most sophisticated, urban way – comes with its issues.  (Modern plumbing is First World, but hell if it doesn’t suck when a pipe breaks.)

                  I live in the First World.  As such, I use the tools of that world:  a smart phone, a computer, a car, cotton balls.  I depend on those things.  And when those items break or malfunction or I forget them, the error causes stress . . . because I depend on those things.  So when I drop my iPhone in the toilet (again!), I’m going to be upset.  First World Problem?  Perhaps.  But a problem nonetheless.

                  It may seem tough or even counterintuitive to feel badly for someone whose Rolls Royce breaks down (oh poor baby!), but if the Rolls is that person’s means of transportation, his problem is no less a problem than the tire rolling off your Subaru or an Amish farmer losing a wagon wheel.  A hole in a thatched roof in Africa causes the same issues as a hole in the roof of a mansion in Bel Air.  Importantly, both cause stress.

                  So the next time you find yourself stressed because your DVR didn’t record your favorite show or it rained most of your Caribbean vacation or you chipped a newly manicured hand, take heart.  Yes, it could be worse.  But it’s ok if, in the moment, it doesn’t feel that way.  And so I won’t apologize for being upset that I forgot my laptop, or that my hotel blow dryer was lame.  Instead, I’ll stress eat some M&Ms and watch some Property Brothers on my DVR and I will remind myself it could be worse . . . but it also could be better.