I’m simple. I pretend I’m complex but I’m not. I’m basic, though not, thankfully a basic bitch. I love routine and thrive when I have access to my creature comforts. There are plenty of tortured complex women who enjoy rending their garments in the rain while looking at you with wild eyes, wrecked with ennui.
I’m not one of them. I’m tortured, sure, but I don’t wallow in it. My personal form of mental anguish skews a little less CK1 and a little more Muriel’s Wedding. I can see that my pithy problems are funny and small. I apologize for my issues, I’m ashamed of them. Each time one inches up to the surface I find myself as mortified as a farter in a elevator.
But being simple has it charms. I’m not difficult to please. Give me new pajamas, clean sheets, a 60 degree day. a kind word -- I can be transformed with happiness. Sometimes I wish I were a complicated muse-type of broad who was eleven million feet tall and once touched JD Salinger’s penis. Other days, on the ones where I feel raw and perpetually nervous, I take a centering sort of comfort in being reminded that for me, there are miniscule doses of everyday happiness that can temporarily ease the ugh of being human. Here are 7 of mine -- I want to know yours!
“Ma’am, these are buy one get one free. Did you want to --” *Becca darts away from the register and returns with the second pack, breathless, and beaming.*
Lemonheads are the happiest candy on the planet. They are tart and sweet. They are compressed balls of sunshine. They are crunchable happiness. They are yellow and bright. Their logo is a floating man’s head in the shape of a lemon wearing a bow-tie. They ask for nothing. They prevent scurvy.*
2. Black Labs
My roommate’s got this amazing black lab named Ody who is the cutest. No, fuck you, I’ve given the award for cutest dog and that’s the end of it. I like to buy him presents, because you can’t be too bogged down in ick if you are watching a real dog lug around a stuffed dog that is equal to his size. Since the dog is yellow, I have named him Blody, my clever portmanteau for blond Odie. We live in exciting times.
3. Lattes With No Less Than Two Shots
I should be cutting back on coffee and not drinking more of it. I should probably also stop revealing dark personal truths about myself on the internet. Neither of these things are going to happen soon. I’m a creature of comfort and habit. I am boring and predictable. Knowing exactly what I’m going to get every time I take a sip brings me utter joy. I am pedestrian and dull and I’ll go to Starbucks non-stop and I don’t even care. Fart on your butthole.
4. Objectifying Men
Sometimes a guy will be walking towards me on the street. He’ll have floppy hair and some stubble, maybe even a nice square jawline. Maybe he is 19, maybe he is 52. It doesn’t matter. I’ll want to lick his face. I won’t because I understand that this would be assault.
Instead, I allow myself the look-back so that I might appreciate, as the Twitter says, dat ass. If said ass is of a particularly fine quality I might even go so far as to quietly mutter, ‘Zzzzzzaaaaaayum’, while the musical stylings of Sean Paul ring throughout the hallowed halls of my reptilian brain.
Seeing results. It is...the greatest. Cleaning, though I’m by no means a Type-A person about it, is a great way of seeing results. My vacuum, for one, has a light on it. When you are vacuuming a dirty part of the floor, it flashes red. When that part of the floor has been sufficiently cleaned it flashes green.
It’s deeply satisfying in the same way really yellowing up a Q-tip is satisfying, or fully and richly saturating an overnight pad with menstruation is satisfying.
6. Talking To Your Potted Plants
It’s good for them! Plus it makes me feel like the witch from Rapunzel -- in a good way? I make it my business to chat up the greenery in my house on the regs. Except for my mutant fern. That thing is a total freak that I’m pretty sure will one day go up my nose and into my brain while I sleep. Also, my nerve plant can be kind of a drama queen. Man, turns out my plants are mostly assholes.
7. Coconut Scented Anything
I’m on the bandwagon and there’s no getting off. Coconut body lotion, coconut oil, cookies made with coconut. I’m coco-nuts for them! Ha ha ha. I’d apologize for that last part but it wouldn’t be sincere.
If there’s a smell you love, surround yourself with it. Even if that smell is sweaty balls. If it tickles the happy-making nerve centers in your brain I shan’t look askance at that. Though I may look askance at the balls. Sweaty or otherwise.
What brings you simple joy? Asked Oprah, apparently.
* 98% sure I’ve made that up.