traffic signals

Everybody gets their share of good and bad days thrown at them; but you've got to just grab your bat, stroll up to home plate and prepare to receive your destined hodgepodge of tricky curveballs and easy lobs. By 9:30 am, I already know exactly what kind of pitch is going to be thrown my way. I simply accept and proceed because, as we all know, some days you're the windshield and some days you're unfortunately the flittering bug who doesn't see the 18-wheeler cruising down the highway.

Granted, while a lifetime without bad days certainly doesn't sound all that unattractive, without those "shove you down the stairs then kick you in the gut" days, the good days wouldn't stand out... or even exist, for that matter. Just as there are no heroes without villains and no big without small, there are no good days without their tempermental counterparts. You would be doomed to a life in which your mood never shifts out of "indifference" gear and, while you'd sure as hell cry less, you'd inevitably smile less to. The only smiles would end up being the polite ones you use with the supermarket cashier or when you and the person walking in the opposite direction try to side step each other but you both go left. Genuine smiles would be shoved into the bottom drawer and doomed to a life of fraternizing with useless small-talk, old varsity letters and clothes that don't fit. Life would cruise on autopilot and the world would be pretty damn boring.

So just how is it that, within an hour of being awake, I already know whether it's going to be a good day or a bad one? The answer is: traffic lights.

Each morning, I set out for the uneventful 10-minute trek to work. I take the exact same route, I pass the exact same buildings and even see the exact same people heading to their daily AM destinations. The only thing that varies from morning to morning is my luck with traffic lights. By the time I get to work, there are two possible outcomes, one of which consequently determines the day's tone. I either 1) cruise through all the green lights, or 2) hit every. single. red. light.

A sample green light day
The walk takes 10 minutes- all green lights. The fruit guy tosses you a smile and a free apple. The five hours until lunch fly by, propelled by superhuman productivity. Nobody hassles you. Somebody brings in cookies for their birthday. Your favorite songs pop up on your Ipod. You joke around with coworkers. You find a Reeses Peanut Butter cup that you thought you had already eaten. You go to the gym; all the machines work and the gym is practically empty. If you take the metro, it glides to a stop just as you reach the platform. You get home- someone sent you a letter! A good movie comes on tv. Perez Hilton has written a slew of exciting gossip updates. The sun shines, birds sing, elderly couples hold hands, babies giggle.

A sample red light day
Having been stopped at every red light, the walk takes 15+ minutes. You trip on a cobblestone. You arrive late to work. Your pen runs out of ink. The morning drags its feet like a turtle on downers. Lunch comes around; you realize you left your lunch on the counter at home. Along with your wallet. You scrounge up enough change at the bottom of your bag to purchase a diet coke; it explodes. Your Ipod runs out of juice and you're forced to listen to the radio station replay the same 5 songs. You make it through the day. You go to the gym; your preferred machines are broken and the resulting lines delay workout by 1/2 hour. You lose gym locker key. You spend 10 minutes walking around the gym scouring the floor for a silver glint. You find it, grab your belongings and walk out door. Surprise- unexpected rain storm! You decide to take the metro; you hear it leaving as you pass through the turnstile. The apartment building door won't open. There's no interesting gossip in the celebrity world. Children cry, dogs howl, car alarms go off, Satan chuckles.