Last week I was having “one of those days.”
I froze during a test that I should have aced. The test would have led to an interview for a job that I am more than qualified for on several levels. I felt like a failure. There was only one thing for me to do, create something.
In this case, I have had it in my mind that I need to “up-cycle” some old folding chairs. I already have the fabric so I just needed to stop by a local home improvement store and pick up some paint.
As I stood staring at the white, off-white, cream, buff, ivory and light honey, something caught my eye. It was red spray paint. Bright red paint that was perfect for outdoors. I didn't want red chairs so I stood there thinking about what I could cover in scarlet.
My mailbox was rusty. It had gone from black eight years ago to a sad brown streaked eyesore last week.
After getting instructions on prep, finding out that I needed to start by spraying another product over the box, letting it dry (I am so not that patient), I followed up with the beautiful color I had chosen.
Really, I think it was a cry for help. Something in me that said I needed to create something because in one, half-hour of my day I felt as if I had really messed up. In my heart I knew it could happen to anyone and that all things work out for a reason. My mind just needed to see it differently. Boy, do we see it differently now!
My darling husband was a good sport. He even seemed pleased that I hadn't reverted to my old ways of dealing with disappointment, but found something constructive to do. When he got home he helped me finish up, trying as hard as he could not to take over (after all, he has always been the project guy), and walking me through the finer points of using spray paint properly. Who knew you were supposed to take your time?
I still have to clean up a little overspray where the newspaper peeled away while I was working. We are now contemplating a whole new post. Of course, there is a little matter of the door sticking shut I will address before our mail carrier gets here today. But what I like best about driving down our street toward our house isn't my big bright mailbox, it's that I'm learning to turn disappoint into opportunity. Even something as trivial as the color of an everyday item, allowed me to feel as if I could be a bright spot somewhere, even if only at the end of my driveway.
What is your favorite turning a lemon day into lemonade story?