I am excellent at being excited.
When my parents announced in December that we were going to go back to Disneyland this year, I was thrilled. From Christmas until the actual trip, ten weeks later, I was always monitoring how close the trip was from that very moment. “Only six weeks until we go!” “Twelve days from today, we’ll be in Disneyland!” (I attempt not to think “in five days from now, we’ll be home from Disneyland and the trip, which we haven’t even left on, will be over” because that’s just depressing).
Bart, well, he doesn’t get excited until we’re actually on the airplane, so I figure it’s my duty now to be excited enough for the both of us.
And this excitement is not limited to big things like cross-country all-expenses-paid family vacations.
About three weeks ago, I planted two big pots of herbs on the back porch. I watered them and I watched them. I went outside every day to see if anything had sprouted. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Finally, on Sunday, seven little green spouts had poked out. Yesterday? Eleven. Today? Thirty-four. I have mentioned this fact approximately fifty times to Bart in the last few days. I’m seriously THAT excited about it.
You wouldn’t even believe how thrilled I am that the lily Bart gave me for Valentine’s Day last year, that I planted in the front yard, is now starting to poke up out of the dirt.
The real reason I’m thinking about this, though, is that today is Tuesday. And I look forward to Tuesday all week, every week because it’s the day that the dollar theater posts the new movies that will be opening that weekend.
Yes, I really do look forward to that.
It’s the small things in my life, obviously.